She tried to force open her eyes, but the lids were heavy and stiff. Clumps of damp hair swung across her face, the strains stuck together by some kind of goopy slop. Her coughing subsided. Slowly her lungs stopped burning. Another gust of cold caressed her thighs, then lower, creeping down her legs a few inches at a time. The rest of her body was as limp and uncooperative as her eyelids. She felt empty. Cored out.
Worse, her sense of balance told her she was upright, but slumping forward, inch by inch. She couldn’t move her limbs to fight the slow workings of gravity. Whatever was holding her up seemed to be letting go.
With nothing else to do, she waited, barely daring to breathe. A slight tingling encroached upon her silent, unfeeling world. It started in her shoulders and worked its way up her neck. Feeble energy stirred.
She ran her tongue along her lips. They tasted sweet. It was a strangely familiar flavor. A moment later she had it. The watery sweetness of tree sap.
Feeling slowly returned in the wake of the tingling. Her eyelids opened and after blinking several times, the gray world sharpened into strands of her dark hair coated with tree goop. She gave her head a shake. The motion lacked the strength to toss the lank strands over her shoulder, but it swung enough she could see the ground. Knee–high grass waved in a breeze. Now that her wet skin was adjusting, the air felt warmer.
Lillian sighed, and rested her chin on her chest. Thinking required too much energy. It was easier to rest and be lulled by the sounds of the breeze blowing through tree leaves. She supposed she was in her glade. It smelled like it. And she’d always felt safe in her glade … until. Until when? No she didn’t want to think about it.
Sleep was just creeping back into her consciousness when Lillian’s world shivered. An earthquake? Here? The strange sensation subsided after a few heartbeats. The silence and stillness lasted for a minute more. Then a deep groaning like the wind in an old tree, its branches creaking in winter, echoed all around her. The world tilted on its head. Whatever was holding her up loosened. One arm came free. Her upper body lurched forward. She was pulled up short by her other arm, still trapped within the same warm, wet blanket that held her thighs and lower legs. A pained gasp escaped her. By the radiating pain in her shoulder, she’d damn near dislocated it.
She was hanging upside down, bent almost double at the waist, hair pooling on the ground. Her new position showed her something she’d missed before. It was impossible to miss now because her nose was almost touching it.
“It” was the exfoliating bark of her Redwood. The rough bark grew up and over her legs, midway up her thighs. Her upper body had emerged faster than the rest of her body. One arm was still trapped within the trunk, but she could feel the arm slipping.
“Oh dear. This can’t end well.”
The prickling bite of returning sensation crawled down her body in a hot wave. A few more minutes and she might be able to move, maybe even extract herself from the tree without harm.
The tree gave another series of contractions.
“Ah, my usual luck, I see.”
Her arm came free from the tree’s hold. At the same time, the fissure in the trunk widened, releasing her legs. Lillian started to fall head first toward dew–covered grass. Desperate to protect her head, she tucked and rolled. Or at least tried. She hit the ground with an expulsion of breath, then grunted in pain when she rolled onto her strained shoulder.
To judge by the throb, her shoulder would be colorful come tomorrow morning, but she didn’t think it was dislocated. Her midair twist and roll hadn’t been pretty. Actually it probably resembled something a sea lion on land might do, but the maneuver worked for the most part.
“Nastiest wakeup ever,” she mumbled as she stared up at her tree. The fissure she’d just fallen from was closing, the bark healing over the mass of red tissue and wood fiber inside the trunk. When it was healed, it looked like any other Redwood trunk, nothing like a tree that had just given birth to her.
“Yep, Lil, a tree just gave birth to you.” With a small part of her brain that decided to work, she realized with a hint of bemusement she was probably in shock.
The grass was cold and wet from a recent rain. She was buck naked. Tree sap covered her from head to toe. Her mind flailed for a moment, then she remembered: The Riven. The demons trying to sacrifice her so they could corrupt the Lord of the Underworld’s sword. The demon within her awakening and saving her and Gregory from the demons. Events were blurry after that point but she remembered the demon using her body to seduce Gregory, or at least trying damn hard and failing. Then the agony of an axe biting into her hamadryad. Sable with an axe, tears running down her cheeks.
The last clear thought was of her gargoyle placing her in her damaged hamadryad in a desperate bid for them both to heal. Then Gregory whispered his love and told her to “live.” She remembered the loving touch of his mind. But there was something else, too: “Live, even if I do not.”
That horrible emptiness. The sensation of being cored out. God, no. No, no, no, no!
“Gregory!”
Lying on her side, propped up on one shoulder, she was facing the wrong direction. She struggled to get her muscles working. The pins–and–needles sensation intensified. After a few moments, feeling returned to her legs and she rolled over.
He was there on his pedestal.
Head bowed, unmoving stone.
She tried to touch his thoughts, but no magic stirred within the emptiness inside her. His last words to her echoed in her mind once more.
Live, even if I do not.
Sobbing uncontrollably, she crawled toward him. The sweet fragrance of sun–warmed grass coiled around her. Bees and insects buzzed close to her head, sounding loud to her ears. Everything was as it had been all her life. The maze. Her glade. Her Redwood rustling in the breeze. Her silent stone guardian.
But it was all wrong.
“Gregory, please.” She whispered as she continued to crawl closer.
Horrible emptiness crushed all hope. She’d felt his willingness to sacrifice himself if it would save her. Gargoyle blood could heal a hamadryad. Her hamadryad had been grievously wounded. It would have taken a lot of Gregory’s magic–laced blood to heal those kinds of injuries.
Gregory’s pedestal loomed in front of her. Her fingertips brushed the rough stone. Then she reached up and grabbed a handhold to haul herself to her feet. She swayed, but held on to her gargoyle’s leg. After struggling up onto his pedestal, she looked up and stared into his beloved face. It didn’t matter what form he wore, she loved him regardless. Fingers shaking, she caressed his muzzle.
Words she’d spoke once before in this life whispered across her memory.
“I trust to the Mother’s choice.”
She leaned against her beloved gargoyle, breathing across his stone skin, trying to pick up even a hint of his scent.
“Dark Watcher, immortal servant of the Light, with my power I summon you to wake.”
No power stirred at her command. She fought back against a sob and continued in a shaking voice. He couldn’t be dead. Not after they’d defeated the enemy.
She couldn’t be alive and he be dead.
“With my will I do claim you.”
She focused all her shock–benumbed thoughts, her sense of purpose, her love—everything she was—and willed it into the stone under her hands and prayed some part of her beseeching litany reached Gregory.
“Hear me and awake. My friend. My soul. My mate.” She pressed her lips against his forehead. The stone was as rough and cold as the rest of him.
“Evil walks the land.”
“I have need.” Of you. Forever. Beloved.
Nothing happened. In that moment, hoped died within her. As she had since childhood, she dropped down onto his stone knee, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed. The echoing hollowness within her opened wider, threatening to devour her soul. Agony built within her until she couldn’t hold it back. She screamed, great gasping howls that hur
t her throat. Tears flowed onto her lips, their taste salty.
When her voice failed, she continued to sob in silence. But no tears could fill the void within her.
“Listen. Hear me, my lady.”
She jerked in surprise and looked into his face. Still cold, unmoving stone. Her grief must be playing tricks on her mind.
“We are one entity, one soul. We are the Avatars. Nothing can part us. Not even death.” Gregory’s words echoed back to her from her memories. Either that or grief had driven her insane.
“My love, you’re not insane. At least, no more so than this world makes anyone.”
Lillian couldn’t prevent her arms from contracting around his neck. Could it be?
“I live. And for you, my lady, I will try to wake. I think I’m healed enough to resume warm flesh.”
Worry made her stomach tense. “Gregory, don’t endanger yourself for me.” She hugged his stone neck harder. In that moment she didn’t care if she had to wait another twelve years for him to heal enough to be with her again. He was alive. She’d give daily thanks to the Divine Ones while she waited. “Rest. Finish healing and then come back to me.”
“I’ll not make you wait another twelve years.” There was a smile in his mental tone.
The stone warmed under her hands, then all along her body. She didn’t care if he gave her a scorching sunburn, she wasn’t moving. The shadow of his wings moved up and away as his arms encircled her shoulders. A warm tongue slathered across her cheek and Gregory’s rumbling purr broke across her skin.
“Tickles!” she gasped as tears streaked down her cheeks. She squirmed to get away. Helpless to stop, she continued crying and laughing and shaking.
Gregory licked up her tears. To her utter surprise, his shoulders began quivering, shaking Lillian’s entire body with the force of his silent sobs. The need to protect and comfort, as powerful any she’d ever experienced, had her rocking him back and forth, murmuring meaningless words into his neck. “Hush now.”
“I didn’t know if your tree could heal you. The thought of losing you again… .”
“We survived.”
“Yes, you’re a tough little dryad.”
She gently pushed away from him just enough to look up into his face. His dark eyes tracked the motion of her hands as she reached up to caress his cheeks. “I love you, too, gargoyle.”
Stretching up on her toes, she tried to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her foot slipped and she lost her balance. He caught her, but was far from steady himself and they both pitched sideways. She yelped in surprise as they toppled off the pedestal. Gregory reacted faster and turned them in midair. He landed first, taking the brunt of the impact on his back. She still slammed painfully into his chest, knocking the breath from them both.
“Thanks,” she managed between bouts of laughter. “Having an eight–foot–tall gargoyle land on top of me isn’t on today’s to–do list.”
“I think I’ll just stay here for a few minutes until I figure out which way is up.” He lay underneath her, panting, his wings spread to their fullest to either side. After a moment he started to chuckle. “You’re welcome to use me as a pillow for however long you like.”
“And would your willingness have anything to do with the fact I’m as naked as the day I was born?” She decided modesty required too much energy and simply snuggled closer.
His eyes remained closed and he replied in a slow, lazy drawl. “Entirely possible.”
“You’re incorrigible. You know that, right?” Her words were playful, but a sense of seriousness was settling over her heart, eroding her earlier joy. She remembered the demon all too clearly. And she didn’t believe for a minute the demon was gone, even if she couldn’t feel it slithering around in her soul. It would only be a matter of time before the demon grew strong enough and made its reappearance.
“My little dryad, you do feel different,” Gregory said.
She frowned as she mused over his words. She did feel different, and wasn’t certain if that was good or bad. “My magic is gone. I’ve been cored like an apple.”
“Hmm … that explains it,” Gregory rumbled by way of answer, sounding more relaxed than she ever remembered hearing. He nuzzled her hair, making sounds of contentment deep in his throat. A large, warm hand settled on her shoulder, then moved down leisurely to stroke her back.
“Explains what, exactly?” She asked, though she wasn’t certain she actually wanted to know. His answer might destroy the pleasure she took in his petting. He’d switched to running his hands along her hair, before trailing his fingers down her back.
Resisting the urge to arch her back in cat–like fashion, she instead lifted her head to meet his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her. His focus was for her hamadryad. By the curve of his smile, which showed a generous amount of fang, he was pleased with what he saw. “Gregory?”
“It’s easier if I show you.” He rolled her off to the side, then sat up. When he’d gained his feet, he reached down and pulled her up after.
Now that she was standing, looking down at herself, she no longer felt sexy—not covered in tree sap and bits of grass, dirt and other plant materials. “Clothing would be nice,” she mumbled to herself.
With a slight motion, Gregory stirred the air with one hand. Shadows, flecks of sunlight and bits soft moss came to his hand. While she watched in silence, he wove a skirt and vest from the materials. It wasn’t as sophisticated as what the other dryads had made for her, but she was twice as happy. “Thank you.”
After she donned her new clothing, Lillian let herself be led back to her hamadryad. She even managed to swallow back the numerous questions floating through her thoughts.
“You said you felt empty.”
“Yes, nothing happened when I tried to call my magic. I thought you were dead and a part of me had died as well … but you weren’t … and you heard me even though I had no magic left.”
“I’ll always feel your joy and your pain; any powerful emotion will touch me. You don’t need magic for that.”
“I’m glad.” Her words couldn’t convey the slightest drop of what she felt for him, but her throat tightened and blocked any more words from escaping.
He reached for her hand. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.” Now she could add feeling perplexed to the riot of emotions bubbling up inside.
“The demon is gone from you. In part, that is why you feel empty.”
“How? You said you couldn’t remove it without killing me.”
“I couldn’t. Your hamadryad did what I couldn’t. Feel.” He took her hand and pressed it against the rough bark of the trunk. “I didn’t expect this.”
At first she felt nothing except the tree, then Gregory put his hand overtop hers and called power. It washed into her. “There is no danger,” he whispered above her, “not while I’m here with you.” His mind touched hers, then his thoughts flowed away into the hamadryad. He tugged Lillian along after him.
“Do you feel it?”
Just as she was going to say no, she heard the distant echo of another mind; its enraged thoughts broadcasted its loathing. She sent her consciousness in the direction of the disturbance. Her hamadryad’s mind surrounded hers. It was strangely comforting and Lillian forgot what she’s been doing until Gregory mentally nudged her.
“Come. You need to see this so you’ll no longer doubt yourself.”
Another tortured, infuriated scream reverberated throughout the internal world of the hamadryad. It was so full of hatred Lillian shivered at the sound.
“That’s my demon isn’t it?”
“Yes. You hamadryad has trapped it.”
The demon howled again.
Lillian continued to follow Gregory’s spirit until she sensed they were deep in the hamadryad’s wooden heart. Ahead of them, golden power coiled and twisted around something of darkness. The two forces were joined in a fierce battle beyond Lillian’s understanding. What she saw wasn’t fought in the physical world; this wa
s a battle between two spirits. Somehow Gregory was using his power to show her what was going on inside the hamadryad.
Gregory drew back from the fight and urged her along with him. Lillian swayed and found herself back in her body, staring at the trunk of her Redwood.
“I don’t understand. How can my hamadryad trap the demon soul? Wasn’t the demon … part of me?”
“The demon was grafted onto your soul—the ancient essence of the Sorceress. You feel empty because you are no longer the Mother’s Avatar. That power now belongs to your hamadryad. In essence, she is now the Sorceress.”
“Gregory,” she held up her hand, “you’re giving me facts, not an explanation.”
“Sorry.” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’ve been telling you half–truths for so long… .” He sighed and bowed his head. “While the hamadryad was healing you, she saw a way to strike at the demon. One I hadn’t thought of. Apparently, the demon hadn’t either. To heal you, your tree needed to call power from the Spirit Realm. Something both you and the demon were too weak to do, so the hamadryad called your shared soul to her. The tree became the Sorceress. Seeing no other way for its host to be healed, the demon allowed this, but it had to go with the soul, into the hamadryad.”
“The hamadryad took my soul?”
Gregory curled a wing around her shoulders and guided her away from the tree. The warmth of his body pressing against hers triggered an answering heat in her belly. As if he read her thoughts, he bowed his head and nuzzled her shoulder.
“Stop that.” She slapped his nose away. “You’re trying to distract me. Did you just say I’m soulless?”
“Of course not. Your hamadryad is a part of you. It doesn’t matter to me which vessel the other half of my soul inhabits. In my eyes you are one being. My love.”
“Good for you. Why don’t you send the Redwood chocolates?” Focus Lil. It’s not Gregory’s fault you’re scared shitless. Suck it up. “I’m sorry. It’s just been one hell of a week.” She scowled in the direction of the hamadryad. “So my tree has trapped the demon.”
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