The Complete Gargoyle and Sorceress Boxset (Books 1-9)

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Not—my—doing.” Gregory punctuated each word by shaking the human. “He stole my magic. To stop him would have killed him. He did this to himself. But if you continue, I will damage you. Mortal, do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” Jason moaned.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He sounded weaker. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Gregory deposited the human on the ground next to his unicorn friend. They were both crazy. It might be contagious. Turning, he ran into Lillian. She glanced beyond him to the unicorn, concern drawing her eyebrows together.

  “What did you do to him, and why?”

  “I did nothing. He stole my blood so he could return to his true form. Did you not know your brother’s friend was a unicorn?”

  She mouthed his words, and then shook her head, looking lost. Her skin was paler than before, and he worried shock was setting in. His suspicions were confirmed when she started to shiver. He pulled her closer until her smaller frame was a solid line against his side, and then he wrapped a wing around her shoulders. She leaned into his warmth and didn’t look up at her grandmother’s approach.

  “Forgive my grandson and his friend, ancient one,” Lillian’s grandmother said. An elegant bow accompanied her formal greeting. “You may call me Vivian, and as you can guess by the evil you’ve already discovered, these have been trying years for everyone. But let there be peace between us and let us share food and histories. There are dangers which must be explained.”

  He didn’t miss how she glanced worriedly at Lillian, but he didn’t question her further. There would be time for inquiries later. For now, he was more concerned about Lillian. She was so small—fragile, even—and she’d been so close to death when he’d first woke, no wonder she was now on the edge of shock. She’d suffered much trauma in the last day. There was also her hamadryad tree to think of, but the tree was safe for now. He’d see to the hamadryad’s healing tomorrow.

  “Lillian needs rest,” he said.

  “Of course.” Vivian made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “This way.”

  He inclined his head to Vivian in thanks before urging his lady back in the direction of the house. Lillian allowed herself to be herded.

  Inside, Gregory followed Lillian as she made her way through the kitchen and on into the living room. There, she collapsed into a chair and held a pillow in her lap, her eyes glazing with recent memories. Her grandmother stood next to her and whispered words of comfort. Right now, Vivian was the one Lillian would find safe and familiar, while his presence would only lead to more questions and worry. So, he faded, blending into the room around him until he was once again part of the shadows.

  Chapter 9

  DISTRACTED BY HER GRANDMOTHER, Lillian missed when the gargoyle vanished. She leaned forward in her chair, her fingers biting into the armrests. He’d been standing right in front of her a moment ago, and now he was gone. Nothing moved that fast. His magic must cloak him in some way she didn’t understand. A laugh bubbled up. She suppressed it with difficulty.

  What did she understand? Magic. Gargoyles. Unicorns. Her entire life was a lie.

  When her mind threatened rebellion, she took several deep breaths. Calmer, she approached the problem with a rational mind. What was she to do? A gargoyle followed her around like a lost dog. He must have a reason. She needed to find out his motives. But how? Question after question whirled through her mind, but no reasonable explanations presented themselves.

  “You’ve had enough shocks for one day,” Gran whispered in her ear. “Come with me. The gargoyle is right. You need to rest. Everything will seem better after a good night’s sleep. Then I’ll explain everything I know in the morning.”

  She should be demanding answers now, tonight... but she was so damned tired. Her body felt heavy, her limbs nearly numb.

  “Come,” Gran whispered.

  Lillian was sure her grandmother was weaving some kind of spell to make her sleep, but she decided she was too tired to care.

  Gran ushered her up the stairs, pushing on her shoulders to steer her in the right direction. After a few turns, Lillian found herself in a room. Her grandmother handed her a bit of satin. Lillian blinked. Her favorite indigo nightgown. And yes, that was her oversized bed. It had never looked so good.

  When the door’s click announced her grandmother’s departure, Lillian started shedding clothing as she crossed the floor.

  Then, the satin nightgown still a cold presence against her skin, she crawled across the bed and scrambled under the covers. Her eyes were already closed by the time her head hit the pillow. Before sleep claimed her, a worried thought flashed through her mind.

  Where had her gargoyle gone?

  A SOFT, SLOW WHOOSHING teased the edge of her hearing, rhythmic like the ocean, almost a purr. The soothing noise had a steady thump as its counter beat. Delicious warmth radiated throughout her body, and she instinctively burrowed closer to that warmth.

  While a part of her mind wanted to embrace sleep, other senses were sharpening. She inhaled a deep breath. Air perfumed with the scents of home baking filled her lungs—her grandmother’s pancakes and sausages, if she was not mistaken. Her stomach growled, waking her further. Still, she didn’t open her eyes—something was dancing at the edge of her consciousness, something she didn’t want to acknowledge or remember.

  She squeezed her eyes tight and wiggled even closer to the heat, determined to recapture the mindless oblivion of sleep. Another scent crawled across her senses and seeped into her mind like a drug, one reminiscent of wild places and the pleasant, musky warmth of a purely male being—the scent of a gargoyle.

  She froze. Memories of the last day wouldn’t be denied and came crashing down upon her peaceful world. Muscles tense, she cautiously opened her eyes—to an expanse of ebony skin stretched over a defined, muscular chest. A heavy weight was slung across her shoulders, preventing her from sitting up, and something else with the grace of a two-by-four held her lower legs imprisoned. Five minutes’ worth of wiggling and the gargoyle’s arm was down almost to her waist. Being careful not to shake the bed, she sat up.

  The two-by-four turned out to be his tail.

  There was an eight-foot gargoyle occupying her bed.

  Tramping down rising panic, she did a quick survey of the bedroom. Her robe was on the other side of the room, tossed over the back of her reading chair next to the antique oak dresser. With a new goal firmly in her sights, she held the panic at bay a little longer.

  After several more minutes of slow, cautious wiggling, she was out from under the gargoyle’s wings. A few deep, calming breaths and she inched off the bed in slow motion. Her bare feet touched the floor. A glance over her shoulder confirmed her new bedmate hadn’t so much as stirred a talon. Fear made her breath shallow and rapid. She bolted for the robe in a mad dash. In under ten seconds flat, she had the robe clutched in one hand and had reversed direction for the door.

  She reached the old walnut door—a gate to sanctuary, the way to freedom. But she did not turn the knob. Poised, frozen between moments, she was unable to decide which way to go.

  Whatever was on the other side of the door was just as much the unknown as the big beastie sleeping in her bed. Worse, perhaps. The gargoyle had never lied to her, which was more than she could say about her family. For years they had hidden all this from her. Magic. Of all things, magic existed.

  She needed answers. Perhaps then the chaos of the last day would order itself into something resembling a normal life.

  Ten feet away, sleeping soundly in her bed, was someone fully capable of answering her questions. All she had to do was confront him.

  Determination flowing in her blood, she spun away from the door and faced the bed.

  How long had she slept next to the big, eight-foot-tall monster, with his massive talons that could have torn her apart? Even as she thought it, that older foreign part of her spirit knew he would never harm her—not even in his sleep.

&nbs
p; Indecision held her rooted in place for several more seconds. Then curiosity and that strange, fierce need to be near him reared its head and overruled wisdom. Instead of running away, she slid one foot ahead of the other until she stood at the end of the bed.

  The opportunity was too tempting to resist. After a moment’s consideration about the foolhardiness of what she was about to do, she reached out with shaking fingers.

  Keeping her touch light so he wouldn’t wake, she slid her fingertips along warm skin. The deep rise and fall of his chest confirmed he still slept deeply. He was curled in a fetal position, his tail tucked around him like a cat—the biggest damned cat she’d ever encountered. It was nice studying him while he slept. He seemed less scary that way.

  Even curled on his side, his eight-foot frame dwarfed the king-sized bed. One massive wing stretched out behind him while the other blanketed him like a cloak of shadows. His head rested pillowed on his bicep, and one arm still reached out to where she’d been tucked against him. His large fingers, with their three-inch claws, were uncurled, relaxed in sleep. If he’d had a nightmare, he could have gutted her. Her eyes traveled the length of him again. While he wasn’t human, he was undeniably male. Overprotective guardian non-withstanding, he’d be finding himself different sleeping arrangements very soon.

  Without conscious thought, her fingers found his hand and touched the black, curving claws. She really should be running away, she reminded herself. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and explored the gargoyle.

  Oddly, she could deal with the strangeness of the gargoyle better than seeing her family in their new roles. Or seeing a man she’d known all her life turn into a unicorn. It was like something out of a fevered dream. Abnormal. Surreal and completely creepy.

  That the gargoyle seemed the most normal part of her life didn’t bode well at all.

  She stroked his mane for several minutes. Calm returned, followed by clearer thoughts. With confidence she didn’t know she possessed, she sat on the bed and investigated the spiky ridge of hair between his horns. If Lillian thought she could get away with it, she would have tried to brush his mane for him, but the motion might wake him, and she rather liked watching the gargoyle sleep. She wasn’t sure why or how, but he was a natural part of her existence. Like air and food and water, her gargoyle had transformed into a component she needed to live.

  From downstairs, the distant beep of the kitchen timer reached her ears. At the noise, the gargoyle made a huffing sound as he wiggled his muzzle under the edge of her robe until his entire head vanished beneath a fold of the dark-green fabric. Only his horns and ears stuck out and she started to laugh.

  “No, I stand corrected. You’re not cat-like. You’re more dog-like.” His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, but he still didn’t wake up. Instead, he burrowed farther under her until he threatened to push her right off the side of the bed. “Definitely dog. I don’t suppose I can teach you to fetch breakfast? Oh, well. At least—”

  Her next words froze on her tongue as the gargoyle exhaled a grunted exclamation. In one beat of her pounding heart, he was fully awake. His powerful tail snaked out and reached around her shoulders. That heavy, unstoppable weight forced her forward and down until she was sprawled flat on the bed, the gargoyle poised over her. Then he leaped from the bed and landed on all fours, his tail lashing. But before she could ask what was wrong, a disturbance outside in the hall reached her ears. It came a second time. Closer now, she could make out the sounds—dishes rattling on a tray.

  “Jeez, you need to calm the fuck down. It’s probably just Gran with breakfast. She’s nice like that.”

  Gregory advanced on the door with grim interest just as it creaked open. Gran strolled in and shoved the door shut with her hip. Gran eyed the disheveled bed with an arched eyebrow, and then looked the gargoyle up and down as she detoured around him. On her way by, she waved the two trays close to his muzzle, and then continued forward with a knowing smile. The gargoyle padded after her, sniffing at the dishes as he came.

  “Did you sleep well?” Gran asked. Again, that same eyebrow rose in question.

  “Yes, very well...considering a rather large gargoyle was sharing the bed. Know anything about that?”

  Gran graced Lillian with a most innocent look. “Yours is the biggest bed in the house.”

  “Ha! I knew it. You said you ordered the wrong size for the resort and didn’t want to pay to ship it back.”

  “I couldn’t very well tell you it was for your gargoyle, now could I?”

  Lillian huffed, turned to the gargoyle, and speared him with a look. “You’re not a dog—you don’t get to sleep in my bed.”

  Gregory seemed more interested in what Gran was carrying than in the conversation.

  Gran cleared her throat. “Anyway, I imagine you both must be hungry, so I brought a little something to hold you over until lunch. Eat, and then we’ll talk.”

  Lillian was about to tell her to talk now, but the mingled scent of maple syrup, pancakes, and sausages reached her nose. She tracked the trays as avidly as did the gargoyle. Deciding she could multitask, Lillian uncovered the first tray and snatched up one of the sausages. She was taking the first bite when the gargoyle leaned in close and sniffed at her food.

  “It’s not poisoned.” Too hungry to worry about manners, she ate with her fingers. “Relax for five minutes.” She waved at the bounty. “Eat.”

  He didn’t obey immediately, so she lifted a second finger-length sausage off the tray and held it out to him. One moment he was sniffing at it, then she blinked, and it was gone. The only clue he hadn’t used magic to make it vanish was a slight movement as he swallowed.

  Gran handed him his own plate and motioned for him to eat. The gargoyle didn’t need more prompting and folded a pancake in half and shoved it in his mouth. A second vanished as fast as the first one. Gran smiled and turned back to Lillian.

  “I know you have questions. I’ll tell you all I know, and then we’ll see if we can get our new friend to tell us what he knows.” Gran graced the gargoyle with a calculating smile. He stopped eating long enough to bob his head in assent. She turned back to Lillian. “Good. First, no matter what you learn here, I want you to know you are my granddaughter in all ways that matter.”

  Gran paused, closing her eyes like she sought a long-ago memory. “You came to me on a January night twelve years ago carried in the arms of a hulking shadow, a creature of immense girth and height—your gargoyle.”

  Shock descended on Lillian like a blow.

  “Six months earlier, we had lost my granddaughter, Lily, in a drowning accident. It was just before we bought the spa and moved here. My Lily was such a good girl.” Gran continued, “She wouldn’t have minded you taking her name. You even reminded me of my little Lily. When the gargoyle asked me to guide and protect you like one of my own, giving my word was no hardship.”

  Lillian swallowed hard. God, she’d stepped into the life of a dead girl and made it her own. Horror cramped in her belly. Everything she knew was a lie.

  A numb, seeping cold held Lillian in its grasp. Her world was built on a hundred thousand lies. Who am I? She remembered the blood running down her tree, and the sensation of her life force weakening as blood oozed from the wounds. What am I?

  “But why name me after her? Surely it triggered painful memories for you.”

  “Painful, yes. But sweet, too. It was my way of honoring her memory and my promise to the gargoyle.” Gran looked at Gregory where he crouched next to the bed. His empty plate sat on the floor next to him, his full attention upon Gran as she told her tale. “We were new to this place. No one knew Lily. They wouldn’t know you were not the same girl. So, you became Lillian.” Gran sighed. “I have kept my promise to the gargoyle as best I could, but now there is an enemy beyond my ability to defeat. Yesterday they came here to destroy my coven and found you here alone. I am sorry. We had no idea they were ready to move on our territory.”

  “Who are they?”
Lillian asked. “And why don’t I know any of this? Why keep the truth from me?”

  “Forgive me for the lie, but the gargoyle told me to say nothing of magic. So, I thought it best if you believed you were Lily. I then came up with the idea about you losing your memories in a near-drowning—a half-truth is easier to accept than an outright lie. And brain damage explained why you would need to learn our language and details about our world.” Gran paused again and looked down at her hands. When she looked up, she gave the gargoyle an intense look. “I’m interested in hearing the reasons why the gargoyle wanted you to know nothing about magic. That was a curious stipulation.”

  Lillian followed her grandmother’s gaze. Gregory balanced on his haunches, one hand braced against his bent knee, muzzle bowed until it touched his chest, eyes focused unseeingly on the ground. He looked about as talkative as a rock.

  “Right. Better luck next time.” A cold sweat broke out along Lillian’s back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the gargoyle’s reasoning—her gut told her there was more amiss than just bad guys trying to kill her. She returned her attention to Gran. “What do you know about the creatures who attacked me?”

  “Not enough. They call themselves the Riven. We don’t know their agenda, but they are a gathering of evil-tainted magic wielders. Before, we speculated they were led by creatures that legends call vampires. Now after your attack, we know that to be true.”

  “Why attack me? Why now?”

  “I don’t know.” Gran broke eye contact and glanced out the window. “But this isn’t the first time they’ve made a move against us,” she said, her voice strained. She took two deep breaths. When she spoke again, her voice had smoothed out. “Six years ago, we were caught unawares. There had been rumors of a dark underground movement, one that could unbalance our community and expose us to the humans, but no evidence was found to back up our theories. Then the disappearances started. At first, we thought a blood feud had broken out between the Clan and the Coven.”