Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2)

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Good. We’re in enough trouble as it is. We don’t need more.” Lillian narrowed her eyes. “Speaking of trouble—are you intentionally trying to find some?”

  “No,” Gregory replied but didn’t deviate from his route.

  “Then why are you making a beeline for me?” Her frustration and worry bled across her thoughts. “Use common sense for five minutes or you’re going to get your ass shot off.”

  “They cannot see me.” Moving silent and swift among the soldiers, he stalked Lillian as if she was his prey.

  “What if they have some piece of technology which can see through your spells?”

  “They would have already attempted to take me down.”

  Lillian muttered a curse under her breath, but gave into Gregory’s wishes. She couldn’t stop him anyway.

  Obeying another silent command, the soldiers rose to their feet. Some broke away from the group guarding Lillian, quickly replaced by the same number of newcomers. When they had sorted themselves out, he studied the newcomers’ weapons—they were of a different type.

  “Those are tranquilizer guns,” Lillian said into his mind, “They fire a dart filled with a substance which puts its target to sleep. Better than bullets, I suppose, but I don’t know what effect they would have on a gargoyle. Let’s not find out.”

  Gregory acknowledge her words with a nod, knowing she was the only one present able to see him.

  When the humans guarding Lillian moved out, he followed, leaving Resnick and the other soldiers to hunt for a ghost. They wouldn’t even find tracks.

  Chapter Nine

  It felt like the longest walk of her life. In reality, she’d only been walking in the company of the tight-lipped soldiers for less than an hour, but worrying Gregory would get captured or have to fight his way free made it feel much, much longer.

  Gran was correct. Gregory needed to take human form—she knew he could do it. He had for short times before, when he felt like it. Right now, his best non-lethal defense was to play human. Now she’d just have to convince him, which would be no easy task. They were nearing their destination. She could see flood lights through the trees. Her internal compass told her they would emerge from the forest at the north end of town, near the arena.

  It made sense. The arena was the only space clear of trees and large enough for a field command.

  They walked out of the forest and onto a paved road. She sensed when Gregory stopped at the edge of the forest, still in the shadow of the trees. On the other side of the road was the arena—though it looked vastly different than she remembered. The entire parking area had been fenced off. Within the new compound, trailers and other kinds of mobile buildings took up most of the space. What was left was occupied by military vehicles. There was even a heavy-bodied helicopter off to one side.

  Lillian was brought up short by the lead attached to the pooka. He’d planted all four hooves like he didn’t plan to move one step farther. Squinting against the bright flood lights, she understood the pooka’s reluctance. “Will your glamour hold up to scrutiny under their lights?”

  “I would prefer not to test it.” He tugged on the lead a second time, nearly pulling her off her feet. The pooka continued his ‘spooky pony’ routine, lunging to the side and trotting a nervous circle around Lillian. Soldiers scattered out of the pooka’s path, cursing the black pony.

  Only Captain Andrews, the woman who had led the second unit, laughed at the pooka’s antics. She cooed to the pony in a gentle voice, approaching him with a calm manner. She pulled a carrot from one back pocket and after glancing at Lillian for permission, offered it to the pooka.

  Where the heck had the soldier pulled a carrot from, Lillian wondered?

  The pooka pinned his ears and glared at the offering disdainfully.

  “Oh, come on. I know you want it deep down in your little black heart.”

  The pooka sniffed for a moment and then snaked his head toward her. Lillian thought he was going for fingers, but he surprised her by only snapping up the carrot.

  “Well,” Captain Andrews chuckled, not put off by the show of bad manners, “I see your big grey companion is the nicer of the duo.”

  Lillian realized she must be talking about the unicorn—who had taken on the glamour of a dappled grey gelding. “You found my grandmother’s other escape artist?”

  “Yes, he’s a sweet boy. I wondered whom he belonged to. Your grandmother—she’s the owner of the spa?”

  “Yes.” Lillian wasn’t in the most talkative mood. She was tired, dirty, bug-eaten, and hungry, but even so, she liked the woman. Anyone who liked a pooka must have a big, compassionate heart.

  “I saw him running loose at the edge of the forest near the crossroads about two kilometers down. A group of us herded him down this way where others had constructed a temporary pen to hold him. It’s just around the bend, butted up against the forest. I acquired some carrots from the market to entice my new friend into the enclosure. Thought he might be more relaxed away from all the lights and noise of HQ.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I grew up with horses. Parents have a ranch just north of Calgary.”

  The other soldiers parted company with Lillian and Captain Andrews, heading toward the main gate. Lillian, with a bit more than a mote of surprise, realized she wasn’t going to get detained for ‘trespassing’ on her own property like she’d half expected.

  “I’ll help you get your boys past the barricades and checkpoints.” Perhaps seeing Lillian’s surprise, the woman laughed openly, then clarified. “I’m not aiding and abetting. Major Resnick’s orders were to get you to civilization and then set you on your way.”

  “Thanks,” Lillian said, not knowing what else to say, so stayed with the truth. “I could use the help with the horses. They belong to Gran. I just help out from time to time.”

  “No problem. Come on,” she jerked her chin in the direction she wanted Lillian to go.

  Lillian led the pooka down the mostly deserted road. Gregory kept pace in the forest running alongside. She was more than happy he hadn’t decided to pad down the center of the road, certain her constant staring would give him away.

  They retrieved the unicorn without incident, and made it through all the barricades and checkpoints. When Lillian parted company with the other woman, she released a loud sigh, not quite believing they’d made it out of enemy territory. As she continued home, leading the two horses and Gregory trailing behind, she half expected to hear shouts of alarm and sounds of pursuit. She still didn’t relax until she walked up the long lane to her cottage. Never had its rough stone walls looked so welcoming.

  Then Lillian noticed Gran on the porch. Pacing.

  “I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you send word?”

  Dammit, Lillian cursed in the safety of her own mind.

  By her grandmother’s tone, she hadn’t avoided an interrogation after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Several body lengths above the siren’s head, a small boat, its metal hull silhouetted against the sky, rocked gently upon the waves. A small anchor held it in place.

  She eyed it. Debating whether she should drag the boat out into deeper water or risk capturing the humans this close to shore. The pod still circled, watching to see what she would do. They’d led her to this spot, a little cove frequented by curious humans. From what she’d gathered from the dolphin’s minds, these humans were researchers, and as such cared for the oceans and what went on in them.

  If it was true, how could they stand by and do nothing to prevent an abomination like the metal Not-Island from coming into existence in the first place?

  Perhaps these humans were little more than peasants, unable to dictate change to the ruling nobility. The dolphins couldn’t give her insight into this—such rigid structure wasn’t the dolphin way, and they did not understand the ultimate rule of a king.

  Frowning up at the boat hull, she saw shadows moving as the humans went about their mysterious purpose. With
a flurry of activity, a large cage was dropped over the side. Other objects were dropped in next, things suspended on long lines.

  The dolphins had positioned themselves a short distance away at the first sign of activity, but with a series of questioning chirps, the young male was back at her side. Reaching out, she brushed a hand along his side and he calmed, floating contentedly at her side.

  Something splashed against the surface. Blood scent coiled through the water as bright red clouds trailed along the ocean surface, carried away by the current. Fish blood. Fish bodies. The scent reminded the siren it had been a few hours since she’d last fed. Magic sustained her throughout her long sleep, but upon waking, she needed to feed often for the first few days. Though dead fish didn’t tempt her, she preferred hers fresh.

  The dolphin matriarch rejoined her. “Fish slurry for sharks.”

  “The humans want to bring a predator to them? Whatever for?” she asked in genuine confusion. “To hunt the shark? With their nets and boats, the humans could easily hunt other, less dangerous prey.”

  “Not to hunt. Study.” The young dolphin’s excited clicks intensified.

  “You have seen this behavior before?”

  “Yes. They study and protect. Track numbers and movement.”

  A very passive form of protection, the siren decided. Another splash at the surface regained her attention. A human had plunged into the open top of the cage. While she watched, a second human joined the first. They wore sleek black second skins and each had a large cylinder strapped to their backs. She studied them while they were organizing supplies.

  The strange objects strapped to their backs supplied them with air. Whatever was held in their mouths issued a small storm of bubbles every other heartbeat.

  So the land-bound ones had found a way to live within her domain, at least for short expanses of time.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  A very short time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lillian rinsed off the last plate and placed it in the dishwasher. The mundane routine of after dinner chores helped dispel the residual nervous energy from earlier. Gran had drilled her for every little detail during her exchange with Major Resnick. Gregory hadn’t escaped Gran’s tongue lashing either. She’d merely finished with him sooner and then sent him up to have Jason show him the inner workings of human clothing. Looking mildly contrite, Gregory had slunk off in the general direction Gran had indicated. Lillian had only stood and watched, absolutely gob smacked. That had been a half an hour ago. Now all she wanted was to do a face plant in her bed.

  “Would you like some chamomile tea? It’s good for the nerves.” Gran gestured at the big, battered old pot sitting in the middle of the table.

  “Thanks, but I’d probably fall asleep and…”

  A loud crash echoed from the floor above followed by a window-shaking roar. “On second thought.” Lillian scooped up a cup, poured herself some, and took a sip.

  “Told you so.” Gran smiled into her cup. “Better hurry before Gregory kills your brother. I know he can be a brat, but I still love my grandson.”

  “I’ll send Jason down for a cup once I find which wall Gregory just put him through.”

  Lillian made her way from the kitchen and into the living room as she sipped from her cup. Before she reached the stairs, there was another loud thump. Moments later, she heard Jason cursing, which was a good sign. At least he was conscious, she mused as she took the stairs two at a time. She turned right at the top of the stairs and headed down the hall leading to her room.

  Her bedroom door opened suddenly and Jason bolted out. He didn’t make it three feet before a long, muscular arm shot out of the billowing darkness and latched onto her brother’s shoulder.

  “Hey! I know you’re pissed, but I warned you about zippers!” Jason screamed as he was dragged backward into the room. The door slammed in Lillian’s face. She sipped from her tea. There was another loud thump, then what sounded like a minor scuffle. Something heavy landed against the door and she heard her brother curse before it was cut off. He continued to make noise, but it was muffled.

  Lillian reached for the handle, but the door sprang open of its own accord. She backed out of the way just in time as her brother was propelled out with a good deal of force. He stumbled into the opposite wall.

  She arched a brow at the sight her brother made—only to realize he couldn’t see it with a pair of boxer shorts over his head. Taking her time, she circled her brother and then pulled the boxers off his head.

  She placed her teacup down on a side table. “I assume it didn’t go so well?”

  He glared at her when she smiled. He couldn’t do much else, not with the sock jammed in his mouth like a gag and his arms trapped under what looked to be at least three layers of polo shirts over top of his own clothes.

  She pulled the gag from his mouth. “You okay?”

  “Your gargoyle has anger management issues.”

  Lillian grabbed the bottom of one shirt and pulled it up over his head while he disentangled himself from the others. When he was standing in front of her with the clothes he’d started with, she laughed.

  Her brother glowered, obviously not finding the situation particularly funny.

  Between bouts of laughter, she finally managed, “What happened?”

  “Gregory isn’t a fan of modern fashion. Zippers in particular. I warned him to be careful with the jeans zipper….guess he understands why now.” Jason made a grab at his crotch as his face screwed up in mock pain.

  “You didn’t…”

  “Laugh? You bet. In sympathy of course. Though it was his fault for going commando.” Jason shrugged. “Unfortunately, I then might also have mentioned something about sending you up to kiss it all better.”

  Another ominous growl rolled out of the darkness behind her bedroom door.

  “Ah!” Jason darted around behind Lillian, putting her firmly between him and the black mist boiling out of her bedroom. “Think I’ve overstayed my welcome. Bye Sis.”

  Without so much as a glance behind, Jason bolted for the stairs. His mop of unruly brown hair stood straight up in a near gravity-defying way as he vaulted off the top stair. He dropped out of sight and landed with a heavy thump before stampeding down the rest of the flight.

  Gran yelled something at Jason before the kitchen door slammed with its usual creak. Lillian waited a moment more and then turned back to her room, boxer shorts and shirts in hand.

  “Gregory?”

  Nothing.

  Bumping a hip against the partially open door, she eased into the dark room and tried the light switch on the wall. She flicked it a couple times—still nothing. Great.

  Her gargoyle was beyond ‘pissed’ if his concealment spells had dampened the lights.

  “Gregory, love. I know you can see in the dark, but I can’t.”

  A rumbling huff echoed from three feet in front of her. Her searching fingers collided with warm leathery skin, so soft it was suede like. A wing membrane? Then it pulled out of her grasp as if he was turning away.

  The sound of tearing cloth was loud in the silence. Equally noticeable was the pounding pressure of Gregory’s magic against her skin. It hummed in her blood with each lungful of air.

  “Hmm,” Lillian wasn’t too concerned. She liked the wild essence pressing against her skin. And it was Gregory with her, after all. However, it would still be nice to see what was going on. “Light, please?”

  He huffed again, more growl this time, but his magic retreated and the lights flickered back into existence.

  “Thanks.” She blinked against the suddenly bright room. When she could see again, her gaze sought out Gregory. He stood with his back to her, in gargoyle form—though by the shredded clothing clinging to him, he’d been in human form until recently.

  She came up behind him and plucked a mangled patch of what was once a nice oatmeal-colored knit sweater from the clawed joint of his right wing. Another larger swath of tangled yarn wa
s draped over his other wing joint. Unwinding it, she brushed the rest away without comment.

  The remaining portions of the sweater were draped loosely across his broad shoulders and chest. A glance down confirmed a pair of blue jeans hadn’t fared any better. The seams had burst over his powerful thighs and calve muscles. And his tail hadn’t done the back of the jeans any good either.

  One large hand came up and gripped the material at his right shoulder. With an interesting ripple of muscles along his back, he tore off a good half of the offending sweater.

  “I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this.”

  Lillian touched the back of one arm, keeping the contact light as she stepped around in front of him. When she was squarely before him, she transferred her fingers to his chest, gliding them under the torn sweater. Continuing up and over his shoulder, she pushed the knitted material away from his body and down his arm.

  Gregory didn’t move, not as much as a twitch, but she could feel his intense gaze locked onto her. Perhaps it was the decision of a coward, she mused, but she kept her eyes level with his well-muscled chest, neither looking up nor allowing her eyes to drift down below his abdomen. She pulled another scrap of material from around his waist and watched as it hit the floor. She pushed it off to the side with her toe, the soft rustle of fabric unnaturally loud in the silence.

  The weight of a long-fingered, talon-tipped hand coming to rest on her shoulder startled Lillian into looking back up until she was eye level with his chest again. She only then realized she’d been staring at the floor because her confidence had fled.

  His fingers began to knead her tense shoulder in a gentle rhythmic manner.

  Forcing her eyes higher, because she would overcome her personal cowardice and be the partner Gregory needed, she finally met his intense gaze. Her throat tight with nerves, she swallowed past the lump. “No permanent damage?” she asked, her voice soft and unsteady even to her own ears.

  “Just to my pride.” His warm breath washed across her one ear and on down her neck. “Nothing that won’t heal.”