Goldilocks, the lady-in-waiting, took a step forward and made eye contact. Her face pinched with impatience. “What is your relationship with this gargoyle? Is he blood relative or mate?”
“Huh?” Lillian’s jaw dropped. It hung open a moment before she closed it with a snap.
“Don’t play coy, just tell us.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t see how. . . .” Heck, she saw zero family resemblance between dryads and gargoyles. There were a few genetic differences, for starters.
“Oh, come. How long has he been awake? A day? Two? Even if you honestly don’t remember your past, that’s still long enough to experience the draw between our races.”
Lillian didn’t seem able to control her jaw. It fell open again. Shaking her head, she denied what they said. But as she took a step back, she remembered that just an hour ago, she’d been running her hands over the gargoyle while he’d slept. Oh . . . so that’s why she kept wanting to touch him. Another complication she didn’t need.
Gran sent Lillian a look of sympathy. Then, her expression darkening, she transferred her gaze to the woman who had spoken out of turn. “Did you read any of the reports I sent you? Lillian knows nothing—absolutely nothing—about her history. She only found out this morning she wasn’t human.”
“Her lack of education is hardly my fault.”
With a snort of disgust, Gran flung her hands in the air. “Stupid child! Seal your mouth while you think things through in the future, lest foolishness escape!”
Elder Sable looked like she wanted to throttle Goldilocks, too. But instead she said, “Kayla is young, not yet mature. You are too hard on her.”
“Bah! Fine, it’s you I should gripe at. She’s your responsibility. Any harm she causes in the future is your fault.”
“Fair enough.” Sable nodded. “Now let us get back to the reason we came.”
“Fine,” Gran growled, clearly at the end of her patience dealing with these three superior individuals. “What do you want besides the obvious?”
“Same as you. Too learn why and how the gargoyle came here.”
Suspicion started growing in Lillian’s mind. “And once you have your answers, what will you do with that knowledge?”
Sable tilted her head to the side to study Lillian in turn. “Leave this world. We’re a dying race and can’t remain here. There isn’t enough magic to beget healthy children. We must flee back to the realm of magic if we can.”
Lillian was trying to listen and make sense of everything they’d said, but her mind kept going back to when Kayla asked what relation the gargoyle was to her. Damn it all to hell. She had to know. “Explain what you said earlier about gargoyles and dryads . . . being related.” She locked gazes with Kayla.
Kayla flinched, her fingers fluttering against the hem of her dress in agitation.
“Talk,” Lillian demanded.
The other girl swallowed and darted glances between Lillian and Sable.
“I have a gargoyle who shadows my every step. Who do you think is more dangerous right now, me or Elder Sable?”
Kayla folded her hands and composed herself. “You are aware there are no male dryads?”
“No, but Gran did call you the ‘Sisterhood.’ Go on.”
“Long ago, when we wanted a child or companionship, we’d seek out males from the other magic races. Sometimes even a human male would do. But over time, we grew weaker. The oldest of our bloodlines were failing to produce viable strong girl children to continue our race.” Kayla’s eyes unfocused, her thoughts turned inward as she warmed to her story. A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips. “Long and long ago, when we still lived within the Magic Realm, a dryad queen grieved over her barren state. Her tree had taken to blight, and she was dying without an heir. She feared for all her people. On the border of life and death, she first saw the gargoyle. All of the magic races have their legends about those demon killers, Light’s Assassins, but she’d never met one in all her years.
“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. 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, and like him, they normally dwell alone. There are no female gargoyles.
“So 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.
“But this gargoyle had found and lost his heart in the peaceful forest glade. Laying 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 she 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.
“With the dawn, the gargoyle still hadn’t returned. Days passed and she waited, both dreading and hoping he would come back. The seasons changed and another year matured and died. 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, bleeding upon her ground anew. 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.
“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.” Kayla ended with a wistful sigh.
Lillian started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. The younger girl was smitten at the thought of a legend. “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 actually ever seen a gargoyle? No, I didn’t think so.”
“Your thoughts are polluted by a human’s outlook. We are not human.” Kayla’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.
“I’ll have him, if you won’t.”
“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 fought over like a prize. I think you’ll find he left as soon as you started talking about him as if he were hand-me-down clothes. While Kayla has already showed her…youth, I expected better of you, Lillian.”
“Sorry,” Lillian muttered.
Kayla, clearly still affronted by Gran’s words, crossed her legs and sat back against the sofa and stared off into one corner wi
thout an apology.
“So have any of you actually seen a gargoyle up close?” Lillian asked.
The third dryad cleared her throat and quietly introduced herself as Russet. “Kayla is too young,” she continued in her soft-spoken way. “But 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 the gargoyle 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 tea kettle on to boil while she thought over the last conversation. It was 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 uncle and brother were cleaning the garden. Her uncle lugged an oversized gasoline jug.
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. 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 favourite. Maybe it would put Gran in a talkative mood. With each new piece of knowledge Lillian gained, more questions surfaced, like “who was she?” and “why was she here?” And what did the gargoyle want? That a gargoyle, one of the Light’s Assassin’s, 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 Clan’s notice.”
“What if they didn’t escape the Clan’s notice?” Sable asked.
“No. I don’t believe it. The Clan wouldn’t sell us out.”
“No, we need the Coven, but even I will admit not all of the Clan can be trusted. And 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 they 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 with sun-browned skin glided down the stairs with an athlete’s grace—a nearly naked man, she amended. A rather handsome, nearly naked man. His knee-length beaded loincloth, gold torque, and gem-encrusted armbands were suspiciously like her gargoyle’s. A silky black mane reached passed his shoulders and was tied at the back 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. “Sorry,” she mumbled and snatched some napkins to sop up the mess.
Kayla looked at Lillian with a superior expression on her face. “You don’t know much about your gargoyle.” She smiled coyly, and continued to whisper in a conspiratorial tone, “Regret saying I can have him? Vivian said he takes commands from you, yes?” She paused, her smile becoming a grin. “If that is true, your word is his law.”
What if Kayla was right? A cold, unreasoning rage built within Lillian. Her words, uttered in a moment’s thoughtlessness, might have more weight than she intended. And whatever happened because of her senseless words, it would be her fault. No, she would not let the gargoyle get caught in some political game thought up by some oversexed tree spirit. She tightened her grip on the teapot.
While Gran and Sable, trailed by Russet, went forward to meet the gargoyle, Lillian leaned closer to Kayla. “It doesn’t matter what I say or think. Gregory is a living creature with the same rights as the rest of us. He’s free to do whatever he wants, and it’s none of our business. Nothing I have said in the past or will say in the future will change that. If you try to use this to circumvent his free will, I will hunt you down and when I find you, I’ll do nasty, nasty things and then knit myself some gloves out of your shiny tresses.”
Kayla paled and came to her feet. She held her position, facing Lillian for a whole five seconds, then bolted for the safety of the other dryads. Lillian grimaced at the back of the retreating woman. Looking further, she met the coffee-dark eyes of the gargoyle. His flashed with humor.
Oh shit, he’d heard.
“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’s sharp ears had picked up on the little bit of drama. Lillian envied her grandmother’s ability to multitask. It was criminal. The gargoyle didn’t give her long to worry about what everyone had overheard. He 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 hand, and the nails lengthened a half-inch. When he relaxed his hand, 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’s what caused the slight hint of foreignness that had nagged at the back of her mind when she’d first looked upon him. Like his gargoyle form, the only hair was on his head, and his skin had a slight sheen to it, like a faint oil had been smoothed over it. Wide, dark eyes fringed with a generous amount of lashes looked back. They were his only soft feature. A strong jaw and nose combined with a wide forehead gave him a rugged look. Certainly not pretty-boy handsome, but still striking—if a woman could actually t
ear 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 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, followed by her Uncle Alan. The two men glanced at the gargoyle and then at Lillian’s face.
Her brother tried to say something, but he started laughing 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 three 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 checking Gregory out. 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 his fingers with hers. 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.
The Avatars Series: Books 1-3 Page 8