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

by Lisa Blackwood

  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 covering 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.

  Chapter 34

  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 she 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 pony 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.

  “You here to play the bodyguard?” she asked.

  “So it would seem,” he whispered into her mind even as he turned his attention in the direction of the combat, “Though, I would have enjoyed a good battle.”

  Lillian’s attention followed the direction of his gaze 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, gutting, and maiming with each strike of his claws or tail blade. 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.

  The 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 experience 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,’ I’m guessing,” she countered.

  “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. 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 kingdom?”

  Ah. 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.”

  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.

  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 continued through the house until she came to the attic’s stairs.

  The air at the top was thick with dust and heat 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 age, 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 normal 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. 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 ensured.

  There was no doubt in her mind.

  Chapter 35

  HER CROSSBOW BUMPED against her back with each of the pooka’s strides, but that couldn’t be helped. Speed was more important than comfort. The black pony’s pace blurred the forest into vague shadows all around Lillian. While he galloped full out, he slowed enough that the 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 the
re.

  “This is far enough,” she shouted over the whistle of the wind in her ears and the thunder of his hooves.

  “As you command, great 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 soothe her. She tried to relax by drawing in deep breaths. She managed to unclench her fists, 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—its malevolence dragging on her soul. Even sheathed, she could still feel its pull, its will working away at her mental shields. But she now 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 in earnest. 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.

  The word rang with power.

  Steal life. She touched the second rune as she thought it.

  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.

  She grinned at the pooka. “Shall we make like thieves, steal our enemies’ lives, and bring them death?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 36

  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. The animals sensed the same thing she did. As she rode nearer, the stink of evil hit Lillian full in the face, thickening until she could almost taste it on her tongue. 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 Riven 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 idea 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 from her thoughts. They had reached their destination. She unslung her crossbow and loaded a bolt. Her plan didn’t actually involve using the weapon on them, but it was better to have it at the ready just in case her plans went to shit.

  The forest opened 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 Riven, 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 all the rest were in range.

  The pooka halted a few feet away from the closest Riven, 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. It was a lesser version of what slept within her soul.

  “I assume you’ve come to trade for the male?” the demon boy asked in sweet tones.

  “My brother lives?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d been certain he was still alive 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 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.

  Chapter 37

  GREGORY PATROLLED THE battlefield and dispatched anything that still moved and reeked of evil. He snarled at a broken Riven 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 when Vivian called out to him a
nd gestured behind. 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 come to this world.

  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 leaped. 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 38

  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.