He drew a deep breath which expanded his chest and leaned closer until they were nose to nose. “Not now.”
Grumpy, she thought, now who needs attitude adjustment? “If you’re not going to budge, why are we wasting time with this staring contest?” Lillian tossed back, and then placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. He jumped back, startled and she hooted. “You moved, points for me.”
Gregory huffed, folded his wings tight, and stormed off toward Whitethorn.
“Spoil sport,” she called out to his retreating back. Grinning so hard it hurt, she followed in his wake. While she might not possess great powers like she’d supposedly once commanded, still she had a purpose—keeping her beloved gargoyle humble. And possibly guiding him through all the pitfalls he might encounter in the modern world he so despised.
Lillian hung back while Gregory and Whitethorn exchanged formal greetings. Even when she’d still been an Avatar to a Goddess and possessed the title of Mother’s Sorceress, somehow she doubted decisions involving war, weapons making, and troop placements would have fallen to her. Those details seemed more in line with Gregory’s overprotective personality.
“The pooka said you wished to speak with me, Lord Gargoyle.” The sidhe leader’s words were accompanied by a half bow, the move more graceful than anything executed on a ballroom floor. Without the shimmering silver locks, pointed ears, and dark grey brocade tunic, he’d look perfectly at home on one of those polished floors as well.
She had yet to meet a Fae lacking in elegance—well, excluding the times she glanced in a mirror.
Maybe elegance sometimes skips generations like other genetic traits?
Gregory’s rumbling voice drew her back to the conversation at hand. “Gran informed me while Lillian and I rested and healed for three months, we received some unusual ‘guests’. We must conceive of a solution to our present problems.”
“A wise idea. But not here where we are so exposed.” Whitethorn drew back deeper into the shadows, gesturing for Lillian and Gregory to follow. “If Vivian told you of our visitors, she must have also warned you of the increased numbers of humans roaming our lands. It isn’t safe to remain in the open.”
Gregory’s tail twitched at the word ‘humans’, but he mellowed enough to follow Whitethorn without argument, for which Lillian was grateful. Perhaps she had an ally in the sidhe leader.
Deeper into the woods, they finally stopped, and she perched on a fallen tree trunk. Gregory and Whitethorn both turned to look out beyond their circle, toward a small game trail to the right of where Lillian sat. She glanced in the same direction but saw nothing. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what they found so interesting when she heard the soft clomp of hooves. Seconds later the unicorn galloped down the path in their direction, Greenborrow clinging to his back. As soon as the unicorn halted, Greenborrow tumbled off.
A few choice words in an unknown language coloured the small clearing. In more dishevel than normal, Greenborrow straightened his baggy clothes and squared his shoulders, growing taller as she watched. He stomped his feet a couple times as if it would knock the wrinkles out of his long tunic, and then he closed his eyes and curled his bare toes into the forest loam. After a deep sigh, he opened his eyes and took them all in with a merry look. “That’s better. Solid ground under my feet. No leshii was ever intended to ride horseback.”
At the leshii’s words, the unicorn neighed loud enough to echo through the forest.
“What’s gotten into you?” Greenborrow leveled a glare at the equine. “Oh…horseback, unicorn, pooka….one’s as unnatural to ride as another.”
“Then walk next time!” With a twirl of his head, the unicorn spun and galloped back into the forest.
“That went well,” Lillian mumbled under her breath.
“I thought so.” Greenborrow bestowed her with a grin and a jaunty little bow. “Always nice to see you.” Then turning to Gregory and Whitethorn, he became more serious. “Well, Lord Gargoyle, what thoughts do you hide behind those black mirror eyes?”
“Dark thoughts,” Gregory said. He shook out his wings and sat down with his tail curled around his haunches. The other two Fae joined him, and he gestured for Lillian to sit by his side.
She hadn’t fully settled herself when a semi-heavy weight landed in her lap. Gregory proceeded to coil his tail around her waist twice until the spade-shaped tip was again directly in front, conveniently under her hands. Inwardly, she smiled at the predictability of her touchy-feely guardian while she settled her fingers on the boney ridges and began to massage between the plate-like armor at the very tip.
Whitethorn arched an eyebrow before he continued the conversation from earlier. “If we don’t take precautions, we may find ourselves fighting a battle on three fronts—the humans, the Riven, and the Lady of Battles. Even you, Gregory, might find those daunting odds.”
“The Lady of Battles is my greatest concern. While she can’t come here herself, she may send her warriors soon. My normal defensive weavings will not remain effective for any length of time in this Realm so I must try another method. I will gift any Fae who wishes to join me with magic forged weapons and personal defensive spells keyed to an object. It will protect the magic from the ravages of this Realm.”
“Permanent talismans,” Greenborrow whistled. “You, my boy, are planning on expending a great deal of magic. More Fae will come, curious as they would be of any gargoyle in the Mortal Realm. Many newcomers have already arrived, and felt your power even as you healed. Some of the oldest guessed who and what you are—the Avatars. In this magic starved land, you my darlings, are an unequaled banquet.”
Gregory nodded. “And I welcome them to come to feast on magic cast off as I forge weapons and spells.”
“Is that a bribe?” Whitethorn asked, sounding almost incredulous.
“Yes, if it will sway more to my side.”
“And if we are victorious?”
“My offer is still the same, there is no limit upon it. When I return home with Lillian, any who wish to come with me, may.”
Greenborrow slapped his knees and chuckled. “And, that, my fine gargoyle, is the best bribe of all.”
Whitethorn’s nod was dower. “Indeed.”
“Why are we just sitting here? Are we waiting for the Lady of Battles to show up for tea?” Greenborrow stood up and bowed to Lillian. “Though your lovely grandmother might just be civil enough to bake for even her worst enemy.”
“A word of caution,” the sidhe leader stood in one graceful motion, “not all Fae who come to you will be trust worthy.”
“I don’t expect them to be,” Gregory said and glanced in the direction of a darker shadow, which coalesced into the pooka. “My personal standards are not as elevated as they once were.”
Gregory unwound his tail from Lillian’s waist. She missed the weight and the warmth, but also the gentle flow of magic between them; however, she didn’t let it distract her from an earlier worry. “But what are we supposed to do with the humans while we wage a war with the Battle Goddess’s minions. Most humans aren’t bad….for goodness sake, I thought I was human. You can’t expect me to stand aside and allow harm to come to them. I have a couple human friends…okay only one. But just because she’s overseas while her parents are doctoring in some field hospital, doesn’t mean she isn’t going to be upset to return home to find her hometown annihilated.”
“You mean Keisha?” Whitethorn asked.
“Yes.” Lillian confirmed after a moment’s hesitation.
Greenborrow perked up, and took a couple steps back toward their little circle. “Key the Fury?”
“What? Don’t tell me she’s a Fae as well.” A sense of betrayal wormed its way into her heart. She and Keisha were as opposite as two people could be in personality, but they just clicked, and had been fast friends since they were both nine years old. Lillian couldn’t think of a more human personality.
Keisha was outgoing, loved to travel, shop, adored big cities, fast cars,
and lively parties. Pretty much everything a Fae Clan member, and Lillian herself, wasn’t, hated, and avoided at all costs. Maybe she was Coven. After mulling the thought over for a moment, Lillian decided Keisha—Key as she liked to be called—fit with the Coven dynamic much more readily than Clan.
At least the Coven members, as far as she understood it, had some human blood running in their veins. “Keisha’s Coven isn’t she.”
“Ah, the lovely Key,” Greenborrow said with a smile. “Human seeming, but something of a different kin I would say. Truth is no one knows what she is. She’s quite unlike any of the Clan or Coven. At first we took her as a threat, for the way she drains magic is quite unlike anything any of us had ever seen. The pooka was dispatched to…neutralize her. But what he discerned changed his mind and ours, once he explained it to us. Key has a unique ability to absorb magic, strengthen and purify it, and then release it back into the world.” The leshii shrugged. “She seems completely unaware she’s doing it. The unicorn confirmed her innocence in the matter. He was able to read her mind. It was open to him, unprotected in one sense, and fortress-like in another way.”
“Go on.” Lillian prompted when the leshii seemed to get distracted by his own thoughts.
Greenborrow cleared his throat. “She doesn’t use the magic herself, not that we have ever seen, but she seems to possess some kind of natural immunity. No spell or enchantment has ever worked on her. And trust me, I’ve tried a few out of curiosity. She was completely unaware of what we did.” The leshii gave a little shrug. “So she is vulnerable, and yet, very much protected against any magical assault. I imagine mundane means could harm her, but she’s a sweet dear and if the other Fae tried to harm her, they would answer to me.”
The thread of warning wasn’t lost on Lillian, and she saw Whitethorn flinch. Was the sidhe leader one of the original council members who wanted the threat Keisha represented neutralized?
Lillian glanced at Gregory, who had remained silent throughout the story, to see his gaze unfocused, likely deep in thought. “Gregory?”
He blinked and turned his unusually intense gaze upon her.
“Do you know what or who Keisha is?”
“Perhaps,” Gregory said, looking thoughtful once more. “As Avatars, our first and foremost role is to act as physical vessels for the Divine Ones to pour their power and essence into so they can come together to beget offspring in a way that doesn’t jeopardize all their creation. An age can come and pass before they choose to call on us for that task, but we have a long and varied list of other duties to perform when our primary function is not required.”
“Yah, I remember the coming together equals a ‘glorious death’—as in ours—‘to give new life’ speech. Someone needs to tell the Divine Ones that seems a steep price to pay for a little fun in the sack.”
Gregory’s one ear flicked forward and then back, but otherwise he didn’t move a muscle, trying to stare her down instead, she suspected. Or perhaps she’d struck him speechless.
Finally he blinked, and then started to laugh. “When this life is over, and we once again walk in the Spirit Realm as one being, we must remember to mention what you said to our creators. Perhaps they will grant us some freedoms in the next life they have never given before, and we have never thought to ask.”
Lillian crossed her arms. “You’re making fun of me again, aren’t you?”
“Just a little.”
“Thanks, love you too.”
“Our thoughts, desires, and motivations are so different when we shed our mortal bodies and become one being in the Spirit Realm, I sometimes forget you cannot remember how it is. We have never been unhappy—frustrated, yes,” he chuckled, “but never unhappy with our lot.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Lillian sighed, and fought to bury her more cynical side, the one which wanted to challenge and question and pick apart every little detail to understand what made them tick.
A throat cleared behind them, and Lillian remembered they had an audience, a rapt one by Greenborrow’s fascinated expression. Whitethorn, who had been the one to clear his throat, nodded his head in the universal signal to continue.
Lillian flushed slightly, then asked, “You said you might know who or what Keisha is, and I assume it has something to do with our ‘other’ duties.”
Gregory bobbed his head. “Without meeting her, I can only assume she is our Sister Ghost…” He paused and Lillian watched him struggle for the right word. “When we were required to do great works of magic apart from each other, our Ghost Sibling as we call her—since she has never left the Spirit Realm, aided us in controlling the flow of magic between the Realms. She is our anchor in the Spirit Realm, our mooring when we did more extensive work that required fast flowing tides of magic, such as composing the Veils between the Realms.”
“Why have you never mentioned her before?”
Gregory’s ear flicked to half-mast position in what Lillian was coming to recognize as the gargoyle version of a flinch. “When you first woke me from my healing sleep, there was much I intentionally hid from you, as you now know, but there is even more I simply haven’t had time to convey to you. We have lifetimes of memories, and our Ghost sibling is simply one facet of our Avatar existence. I did not seek to mislead you in this.”
“I understand. It’s not like we’ve had much time to simply talk.” Lillian reached out and grasped his hands, wanting to show him she wasn’t angry. “So, this Ghost sibling, she’s some form of elemental transformer who converts raw energy into something easier to use?”
“Yes.” Gregory tilted his head, likely hunting for a correct description. “Human scientists call it Dark Matter. She can harness it and convert it into magical energy. Though, she has never left the Spirit Realm before, she may have done so this time to help free you from the Lady of Battles.”
Greenborrow slapped his belly and crowed. “Then I’m glad I’ve been protecting the personal aid of the Avatars from other suspicious Fae.”
Lillian frowned. “But why doesn’t she remember?”
Gregory stood and stretched, still keeping her fingers trapped within his. “It’s not so unusual. The journey from spirit to mortal birth is not at all easy, much is lost or forgotten and must be relearned.”
“I guess she and I have that in common.”
“It will only be for a short while, as we judge time, before you regain your memories and all else you once were.” Gregory sighed and butted his head against her chest hard enough to make her sway.
“Stop it. You’ve got work to do.”
He sighed a second time, giving her a much put out look. “Yes.”
Whitethorn bowed to them both. “I will ask all available sidhe metalsmiths to come to your aid, and Greenborrow will do the same among the rest of the Clan.” He tilted his head in the leshii’s direction. Greenborrow nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“In the meantime, until the metalsmiths have arrived, I will construct some defensive spells to warn us should the Riven attempt to invade our lands. While the spells will cover a vast area, they will be temporary, lasting mere days in this Realm. However, they will help until the next Wild Hunt can run.”
“We are honoured to have your protection.” Whitethorn folded his arms across his chest and bowed at the waist.
“Until later, then,” Gregory said and started away from the small clearing where they’d talked. Lillian followed, curious about how he would place magic enchantments over a large area. She might lack her own magic at present, but that would not always be the case, and at the very least she could watch and learn.
Gregory walked a short distance and dropped to all fours. He circled back and sidled up next to her. His one wing dipped in invitation, baring his broad shoulders and back. His tail snaked around her hips before she thought to try and backpedal out of immediate danger. But it was too late and his muscular tail dragged her closer to his back.
“I’m not tired. I can walk, really!”
Gregory coughed, or it might have been a laugh. Lillian failed to find the humor in the situation. He wanted her to ride gargoyle back, as it were, and she wanted nothing more than to avoid that fate.
Last time, she’d found the whole situation too bumpy, too fast, too scary, and far too intimate—equal parts awkward and thrilling at the same time. And this time, she feared she might not find it so bumpy or scary.
“This is probably a bad idea.” Lillian ran possible scenarios through her mind. “I might fall off and break something.”
“Now who is lying? Besides, I won’t let you fall.” Gregory forced her closer. It was get on his back or be flipped over it to land painfully on the ground on the other side.
Lillian decided to save what dignity she still possessed and tossed a leg over his back and settled in place. Gregory’s wings folded tight to either side of her thighs, locking her in place. She knew from previous rides she was actually as secure as she would be if she buckled herself into a car. Probably more so. Gregory looked out for her welfare—a car was far more indifferent.
Chapter Five
The siren glanced up uneasily at the ocean’s ceiling. A mirror-bright, cerulean blue reflected from the upper realm, a world of air and strange destinies; a world she’d soon have to explore.
She swam for hours, unable to find the source of the oily taint she inhaled with each flutter of her gills. It was everywhere, had worked its way into every reef, school of fish, and patch of kelp she encountered. While she did find life, it was not thriving as it should. The underwater world, her realm to protect, was changing, its magic diminishing, its species no longer as numerous as they once had been.
Even the great whales were not untouched. From them she gathered more knowledge. As she’d suspected, humans were responsible. The whales’ perception of the source of the taint—some cataclysm—was vague, the details scattered and full of holes. They could only relate what they themselves had heard, but they spoke of a family of dolphins that had witnessed the event.
The Avatars Series: Books 1-3 Page 30