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

by Lisa Blackwood

  “He had frequented her forest for many centuries and found the peaceful glade where she took root soothed his soul. He’d watched her from the shadows for a very long time without revealing himself. It wasn’t until he found her dying, as she prayed for another to take her mantle of power before she passed on, that he realized he loved her noble spirit and the kindness of her heart. He showed himself and told her he knew what would help her tree, save her life, and make her fertile, but he had a request of his own. He sought a mate.”

  Sable paused and met Lillian’s gaze. “Now, this wasn’t the usual type of bargain. He told the dryad he’d heal her regardless of her decision. He was lonely and wished to experience the joy of raising a child—which for every other creature upon the earth, in the seas, and flying through the air is a normal occurrence. But gargoyles are different. The first gargoyles were created to serve and protect the Lord of the Underworld’s kingdom, and like him, they dwelled alone. There are no female gargoyles.”

  Lillian frowned thoughtfully. Gregory hadn’t said much about their relationship, but she didn’t think he was looking for a mate. He’d called himself her protector.

  Was he a blood relative?

  Lillian found that thought strangely disturbing and decided she wasn’t ready to poke at the reason just yet.

  “For eons, they served the Lord of the Underworld and destroyed evil in his name. Though it wasn’t forbidden, no gargoyle had sought a mate or tried to sire a child, content to continue their silent battle with evil among the shadows,” Sable said, lost in her tale. “But this gargoyle had found and lost his heart in the peaceful forest glade. Placing his talons upon his flesh, he slashed open his own hide. Then he mixed his blood with water and poured it upon the ground under the dryad’s tree. Her tree drank, healing and growing stronger as the queen watched. When the gargoyle came up behind her and placed one of his talon-tipped hands on her shoulder, she shied away, unable to hide her fear at his touch. It was only after she saw what he held that she calmed: grasped in one clawed hand was a stone bowl, filled to brimming with his potent blood. He instructed her to mix a few drops in water and feed her tree each day. She took the bowl, and while she was distracted, the gargoyle vanished back into the shadows of the forest.”

  Interesting and disturbing. Hadn’t Gran used Gregory’s blood to save the hamadryad cutting? Just what did her gargoyle think of that?

  Unaware of Lillian’s thoughts, Sable continued her tale. “With the dawn, the gargoyle still hadn’t returned. Days sped by as the queen waited, both dreading and hoping he would come back. The seasons changed and years matured and died. Then on one early spring day, while the mist still shrouded the land, a shadow darker than the surrounding forest crashed into her quiet glade and collapsed under her tree. The dryad woke and left her tree to find the gargoyle wounded. Uncertain what else to do, she took the strength she gained from his blood and used it to heal his many wounds. Under her care, the gargoyle recovered from the demon-inflicted injuries, which would have killed most other creatures.”

  Again Lillian frowned, thinking she knew where this story was going.

  “When he was strong once more, he made to leave, but she persuaded him to stay and make his home in her glade. He gave her many dryad daughters, and she gave him his gargoyle son. And that was the beginning of dryad and gargoyle life pairings.”

  Lillian started laughing at the absurdity of the story. She couldn’t help it. “That story sounds a little like a Greek legend, like the bull from the sea and how the Minotaur was sired. Kinky sex, anyone? Have you ever actually seen a gargoyle? I’ve seen smaller horses.”

  “Your thoughts are polluted by a human’s outlook. We are not human.” Sable’s response dripped with disdain.

  “But you’re human-sized and human-shaped! And he’s not. I don’t see how...” She let the sentence die while she still had a wee bit of dignity left.

  “If you have no interest in him as a mate...”

  “You’re welcome to him,” Lillian blurted. A moment after she’d uttered the words, she already regretted them. Gregory deserved better from her. He was his own thinking, intelligent being, worthy of respect.

  Gran cleared her throat. “Maybe this gargoyle doesn’t want to be bartered away. I think you’ll find he left as soon as you started talking about him as if he were a pair of hand-me-down jeans.”

  “Sorry,” Lillian muttered, and then directed her next question at the dryads. “But have either of you actually seen a gargoyle up close?”

  The second dryad cleared her throat and quietly introduced herself as Russet and then continued in a soft-spoken way. “I have. Once, long ago. While they are fierce in their true forms, they are also capable of great compassion and gentleness.”

  “True forms?”

  “Lillian,” Gran cut off Russet. “We’ll talk more about dryad and gargoyle history later, but now Sable and I need to discuss business. Why don’t you make some tea?”

  Lillian winced at the dismissal but got up from her chair and went to the kitchen. She couldn’t sense her gargoyle anywhere near. Like Gran said, he must have disappeared at some point during the conversation about kinky sex. Smart fellow.

  Alone in the kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil while she thought over the last conversation. It was for the best the gargoyle wasn’t around. It would be beyond awkward to ask him outright if he expected fringe benefits for saving her. And the stress of the last day had obliterated the filter between her brain and her mouth. No telling what would come out if she talked to him now.

  She gathered her grandmother’s fancy cups and saucers from the cupboard by the back window. While placing them on a tray next to the teapot, she glanced out. Her brother was cleaning the gardens, which involved lugging an oversized jerrycan.

  It hadn’t occurred to her what “cleaning up” would entail. Now she witnessed the gruesome details as he poured a generous amount of fuel on one dark spot. And of course, they’d need to burn away the blood and remains. If a gargoyle’s blood could heal, there was no telling what evil-tainted blood might do.

  A match ignited the spot.

  Mesmerized by the flames, she watched until the kettle’s shrill whistle broke her concentration. She shook herself and made the tea. Earl Grey, her grandmother’s favorite. Maybe it would put Gran in a talkative mood. With each new piece of knowledge Lillian gained, more questions surfaced. Topmost was ‘Why am I here?’ but ‘What did the gargoyle want?’ was a close second now. That a gargoyle, one of the Light’s Assassins, was glued to her side couldn’t bode well for a peaceful future.

  Well, the kitchen tiles weren’t going to give her any information.

  She scooped up the tray of cups in one hand and the teapot in the other. Armed with tea and cookies, she went to find more answers.

  Back in the living room, Gran and the dryads had turned the coffee table into a combat command center. Maps with topographical overlays showed rivers and land elevations. One looked like a modern road map, except instead of the familiar towns and cities, there were a strange lot of squiggles and foreign names around boundaries she didn’t understand like some alien civilization had taken over the world she knew.

  “They violated Clan territory to get here.” Gran frowned down at the map. “I want to know how they escaped the dire wolves’ notice.”

  “What if they didn’t escape their notice?” Sable asked.

  “No. I don’t believe it. They wouldn’t sell us out.”

  “Not normally,” Sable agreed. “But it might not even have been maliciously done. A dire wolf is loyal to its pack first.”

  “They suffered as much as we did in the attacks six years ago.”

  “Yes, and they might be desperate to protect their remaining members. What would you be willing to do to protect a loved one?”

  “You’re guessing.”

  “No more than you,” Sable countered.

  Gran grunted. “Fine, we’ll be on guard. The alphas are coming here
tomorrow after the Hunt. I will question them then. And if they are deceitful, the gargoyle may beat me to them.”

  “Why not bring Lillian and the gargoyle to tonight’s Hunt? If the wolves are hiding anything, the gargoyle will smell their deception.”

  “Yes, I plan to talk to the gargoyle about that.” Gran looked up and motioned for Lillian to serve the tea. “Ah, lovely.”

  Lillian let her mind go blank as she filled teacups, politely asking what everyone wanted in theirs. She was pouring her grandmother a cup when movement on the stairs caught Lillian’s attention.

  A tall man glided down the stairs with an athlete’s grace—a nearly naked man, she amended. A rather handsome, nearly naked man with a vast expanse of warm brown skin on display. His knee-length beaded loincloth, gold torc, and gem-encrusted armbands were suspiciously like her gargoyle’s. A silky black mane reached mid-way down his back and was tied with a piece of hide. His bare, human feet made no noise as he descended.

  “I think that’s enough tea, Lillian,” Gran said.

  Lillian glanced down. She’d overfilled the teacup and flooded its saucer. A pool of steaming tea spread across the walnut table. Cursing, she snatched some napkins to sop up the mess.

  She tightened her grip on the teapot.

  While Gran and Sable, trailed by Russet, went forward to greet the gargoyle, Lillian hung back by the coffee table.

  “Darling,” Gran said, disrupting Lillian’s thoughts, “now that we’ve told you all we can about your kind, I think Gregory wants to tell you a little about your history.”

  Gran’s shit-eating grin told Lillian her grandmother was aware how much the gargoyle’s changed appearance had her flustered.

  The gargoyle didn’t give her long to worry, though, and gestured for them to take a seat.

  Lillian sat and noted a problem. There weren’t enough chairs. Before she could go retrieve one, the human-form gargoyle walked to her side and stood at her right shoulder. His one hand rested on the arm of the wingback chair. Up close, it was hard to miss a few anomalies. His nails were a proper human length, but it looked like they’d been painted with black nail polish, and their shape was off—too pointed, both at the tips and the nail base. He flexed his fingers and the nails lengthened a half-inch. When he relaxed his grip, the nails returned to their original length.

  Oh boy.

  His little demonstration let her know he was aware of being studied. Since she’d been found out, she studied him frankly, following the hand up the wrist to the smooth, hairless arm.

  Ah! That was what caused the slight hint of foreignness that had nagged at the back of her mind when she had first looked upon him. Like his gargoyle form, the only hair was on his head. Wide, dark eyes fringed with a generous amount of lashes studied her in return. They were his only soft feature.

  A strong jaw and nose combined with a broad forehead gave him a rugged look. Certainly not pretty-boy handsome, but still striking—if a woman could tear her eyes away from his perfectly proportioned body long enough to take note of the face.

  Damn, but he was built like a master sculptor had personally had a hand in his shaping.

  Brushing back a few strands of his hair, she tucked them behind his pointed ears. He smiled, his lips stretching back from white teeth. He had two large canines on both his upper and lower jaw that would put a vampire to shame.

  She looked away, only to realize everyone else in the room had watched her while she’d ogled the gargoyle’s altered form.

  Great.

  A wave of heat spread all the way down her neck, but she raised her head and pretended she was a queen, and these were her subjects. It lasted until her brother entered the living room from the kitchen. He glanced at the gargoyle and then at Lillian’s face.

  Jason tried to say something, but he started laughing too hard and couldn’t get it out.

  She glared at him. It wasn’t her fault the damn gargoyle had suddenly decided he wanted to look more appealing for the two pretty dryads sitting across from her. He’d had plenty of time to wander around looking sinfully handsome, and he hadn’t bothered for her. Not knowing what else to do, she pretended she hadn’t just spent the last five minutes admiring Gregory. She gave her grandmother a baffled look for good measure.

  Gran didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Jason, see if any of your clothes will fit the gargoyle. The nights still get cold.”

  Gregory reached for Lillian’s hand where it rested against the armrest. Caught by surprise, she let him intertwine their fingers. Baffled, she studied his features to discern his mood. His expression remained blank a moment, and then with a sudden smile, he turned and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor at her feet.

  He leaned back against her legs, and placed her captured hand on his right shoulder, then laid his own over top.

  She would have jerked free of his grasp, but she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. Fixing her gaze on the back of his head, she willed a calm mask to cover her rioting emotions.

  Chapter 11

  NOT FOR THE FIRST TIME in his many lives, Gregory wished he was just a gargoyle and Lillian was simply the woman he loved. But no amount of wanting on his part could make them anything other than the Avatars. Lillian was the Mother’s Sorceress. He was the Father’s Gargoyle Protector. Nothing could ever change that fact—stone was more flexible. Yet he still played this stupid and dangerous game with the Sorceress. He couldn’t help himself. Anger had stirred in his gut when the dryads talked of him as if he were a stud to win over with words of seduction and coy looks. Then Lillian had said she didn’t want him, that the other dryads could have him. He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t speak of it, the ache in his heart still too fresh.

  While the Divine Ones forbade their Avatars from mating with each other, his lady had always loved him without regret throughout their many lifetimes. Even if they never fulfilled their deepest longing for fear of birthing a monster with godlike power upon the three Realms, they had their millennia-enduring love to rely upon when sadness became bitter.

  Until now, when the Sorceress had said she didn’t want her gargoyle.

  Her careless words had hurt more than he would ever let her know, but then he’d come and sat with her and her nearness soothed some of the rejection.

  When he inhaled a deep lungful of air, it was impossible not to taste Lillian’s essence, they sat so close. It was sap-sweet but thankfully lacked the heady tang of her blood. He’d already broken one oath to save her life. How many others would she tempt him to break in this life? He glanced down at his hybrid form. Unwise as it might be, perhaps he was the one doing the tempting now.

  It was the nagging worry she saw him as more beast than man that had prompted him to first change his shape. His judgment was compromised when he was in the same room with his lady. It was the only explanation. For why else would he complicate the situation more than needed?

  He grimaced as the truth came to him. Had he been thinking rationally instead of acting like a hormone-drunk fool, he would have let her believe him a beast, some kind of loyal pet. Instead, his anger had swayed him into taking this form to show Lillian what she was throwing away, what she did not want.

  All this would be so much easier if Lillian remembered who she was, but he dared not restore the Sorceress’s memories until he had time to investigate what the Lady of Battles had done to her. There was no telling what traps the dark goddess had cast upon Lillian’s soul.

  He’d stalled long enough. While he couldn’t tell the full truth, there was information Lillian needed now.

  “I don’t know your world or its troubles,” he began, “but I have sensed an unbalance growing in this Realm while I slept in stone. It grows stronger with each season. The Riven, these creatures are known to me, an ancient enemy I’d thought eradicated.” He glanced at Vivian. “I listened as you told Lillian about your troubles with these Riven, but when did these problems start?”

  “A few years ago. Why?”<
br />
  “Lillian and I first came to this Realm twelve years ago. Is twelve years a reasonable time estimate for when the dark ones began their conquest?”

  “Are you saying you and Lillian are responsible for the creatures of darkness coming here?”

  “Yes, I believe so. I will start from the beginning so you can understand what has happened.” He stared at Lillian while he talked, focusing on her until the others in the room became distant to him, unimportant. “First, you must know we share a link of magic and spirit, one that has endured many lifetimes together.” Lillian stiffened behind him at the word lifetimes, but she remained silent.

  He watched as she reached out to caress his hair. Her lips shaped his name. He intertwined his fingers with hers and brought her hand to rest over his heart. At the contact, her thoughts flowed to him from where her hand rested on his chest: an overwhelming sense of peace whenever they were together. Wonder and curiosity. Excitement mixed with a hint of fear at her new awareness of him. But eclipsing all else was her unconditional trust in him.

  Basking in that warmth, he continued, “When I was still gestating in my mother’s tree, I reached for you and found you among our enemies, a prisoner. Newly born, the fluids of my mother’s tree damp and sticky upon my flesh, I went to you. I was still learning how to coordinate my limbs when all the memories of our past lives came to me, awakening with my power. Not yet a day old and I already knew my purpose—to protect you.”

  Her gaze flicked from his face to their interlaced fingers, then back again.

  She didn’t pull away, so he resumed his story. “Had my father not been near at the time of my birth, I would have run off in pursuit of you without any weapons but for what I was born with. He couldn’t stop me from seeking you out, but he gave me his warded jewelry as added protection until my magic awoke fully. I went on the hunt, following the direction of your spirit. That led me to the Battle Goddess’s domain. I rescued you, but the escape cost me much of my magical strength. Without magic, we would never have avoided recapture. There was only one path left to us. Passing through the Veil between the Realms is something only a limited number of immortals can survive. Injured as we were, the Veil came close to killing us. But we survived the trip here where I found this family to raise you. Then I surrendered to the healing sleep of stone until you woke me.”