Sorceress Found

by Lisa Blackwood

  “Persistent fella, aren’t you.” She could stand there all night with a loaf of bread bombarding her face, or she could take the food.

  With a sigh, she accepted the loaf and tore a chunk off, cave-woman style.

  When she dutifully started to chew, he gestured for her to eat more. She swallowed and took another bite. He nodded his head and released her. Somehow it didn’t surprise her he’d be pleased by her compliance.

  When she finished her chunk, he tried to get her to eat more. “Sorry, no.” She shook her head and hoped he would understand.

  He gestured again.

  “Not unless you plan to force feed me.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I have questions. To start, what’s your name?” She pointed to him and he grasped her hand. His head tilted to one side and his ears flicked forward and then back.

  Lillian sighed. This is going to be a long day.

  She tugged on her hand until he released her. While pretending to brush at crumbs, she stepped out of his personal space. He didn’t follow her, so she walked over to the sink and filled the tea kettle with water—all the while fighting the urge to turn around. After she placed the kettle on the stove, she glanced out the window. Her breath caught. Bodies slumped near the maze. How had she forgotten about them?

  Seeing them again, the horror rushed back. But unlike the first time, her mind was sharper, and now a greater concern wormed its way into her consciousness. Her family would be home soon, and there could be more of those monsters outside somewhere. A spike of dread lanced her insides.

  Her back muscles clenched into knots, winding tighter by the minute, and her jaw ached with the need to do something. If she called her family and told them to stay away, they would only rush home faster.

  “Lillian.”

  That voice again, lulling as the night breeze. His arms enclosed her from behind and her moment of panic dissipated. Of course he had killed all the monsters. Her gargoyle would never let them hurt her family.

  Interesting. If she was in physical contact with him, calmness engulfed her, but when he was away, something rose within her … fear or panic, she wasn’t sure which, but either reaction was concerning.

  Was he controlling her thoughts, her emotions? Doubts grew and she again stepped away from him to think. He let her go.

  The kettle’s sudden, shrill whistle spurred the gargoyle into action. He swept her up into his arms and spun in a circle, seeking the source of the noise, his talons poised to rend his enemies.

  “Easy,” she soothed. “Whoa. It’s okay.” She placed her hands flat against his muzzle, and eased them up to his temple.

  The room swam, blurring with motion. When her vision cleared, the ground was a greater distance away, the room smaller, claustrophobic.

  Impossible as it was, she was somehow seeing and feeling the world around them from his point of view—and, yes, she was presently feeling her horns rasp against the ceiling unpleasantly.

  Her tail lashing in agitation at the shrill sound hurting her ears, she looked to the small object causing the noise and backhanded it. It sailed across the room and landed with a clatter, but at least the horrid noise bouncing around the room died off.

  “What on earth!” Lillian jerked her hand away from where it rested against his temple and the vision and stream of sensations coming from the gargoyle stopped. “What the hell was that?”

  She twisted in his arms and pushed at his chest in an attempt to slip free. When that failed, she slumped against him. He still didn’t release her, but at least the strange parade of foreign sensations stopped.

  “Okay,” she said, more to calm herself than him. “We need ground rules. No more of the mind-merging crap. I don’t want to ever know what it feels like for my horns to scrape the ceiling ever again, nor do I want to discover anything else deeply personal about you either by accident or intention on your part. Hands off until you can keep that under wraps.”

  A soft whine issued from his throat as he bumped his muzzle under her hand a second time. Warmth and contentment, like a deep radiating sense of peace she’d never known before, surrounded her. Then it was shattered. Accompanying the new sensation was the image of the whistling teakettle. Foolishness. Embarrassment. Regret.

  After a moment, she understood he was using touch to communicate, trying to apologize for his rash behavior. He’d been caught off guard by the shrill teakettle. He’d thought it was an attack. She might have found it funny if it hadn’t unfolded in her kitchen.

  By way of apology, the gargoyle retrieved the teakettle and refilled it with water and placed it back over the element. Then he returned to her side and watched in his silent way.

  His ears flicked forward, and back—like a horse listening for reassurance in his rider’s voice. A gargoyle with insecurity issues?

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a calmer voice. “I get pissy when I’m scared. And I’ve been more scared today than any time in my life.” She took one of his larger hands into both of hers, hoping he could pick up on her emotions like she had his, and concentrated on projecting her feelings of gratitude and the lessening of her fear. “You saved my life, healed me. I can’t even begin to figure out how or why, but I’m alive and you seem genuinely interested in keeping me that way. The least I can do is hear you out.”

  Now, her day would improve if she could find a way to communicate in complex sentences. His touchy-feely voodoo gave her an idea and she intertwined her fingers with his. She felt like a child. His one hand could engulf both of hers without difficulty and his claws … the term ‘huge’ didn’t do them justice. But for all his massive strength and formidable weaponry, he hadn’t harmed her. She patted his hand, and then tugged him in the direction of the cupboard over the kitchen sink. Pulling out a package of English Breakfast tea, she held it out to him. He blinked at her, but dutifully sniffed at the packaging. “Tea,” she said, giving it a little shake.

  She took a teabag and dropped it in the teapot, then poured the boiling water in after. Next, she showed him how the stove worked.

  He absorbed knowledge with an unreasonable quickness, and she wondered if his magic was aiding him in some way, or if he was able to pick the meaning of her words from her mind directly. Whatever the case, in less than a half hour he was pointing at random objects in the kitchen and saying the words and demonstrating how they worked. From the kitchen, they moved to the living room and then to the other parts of the house. The TV and stereo he didn’t understand, but at least he didn’t try to ‘kill’ the television like he had the teakettle.

  *

  After an hour, the gargoyle could recite a couple hundred words. She was mildly envious of his ability to learn so quickly. Sentences were still beyond him, but that was probably her lack of skill as a teacher. She didn’t know how to teach him something she couldn’t show or demonstrate.

  Since she had grown tired of simply thinking of him as ‘the gargoyle,’ earlier she had tried to persuade him into revealing his name, without any luck. Frustrated, she tried again, slapping her hand against her chest. “Lillian.” Then she pointed at him.

  He blinked at her, and nodded, giving her a flash of teeth. He found it funny. He was laughing at her. Great.

  The tip of his tail flicked like a cat’s, and he leaned down and licked her across the cheek. She sputtered and swore. His grin stretched further, showing white, curving teeth. His tongue darted out again, catching her across the ear. “Lillian,” he rumbled.

  “I know my name, Sherlock.” She pointed at him again. “Do you have one?”

  “Yours,” he said, his expression turning serious. He bowed until his horns touched the ground and his wings pooled around him like a silk cloak. “I am yours.”

  End of Sample

  *

  If you enjoyed these sample chapters, you can continue Lillian and Gregory’s story in Sorceress Awakening, and then follow their continuing story in Sorceress Rising, Sorceress Hunting and Sorceress at War (Forthcoming Fall 2016
).

  Afterward

  Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed the read, you may also like some of my other fantasy series.

  For news about them and other information about future projects, sales, freebies, review copy giveaways, contests and more, you can visit my website http://www.lisablackwood.com/ or sign up for my newsletter HERE.

  About the Author

  Lisa Blackwood grudgingly lives in a small town in Southern Ontario, though she would much rather live deep in a dark forest, surrounded by majestic old-growth trees. Since she cannot live her fantasy, she decided to write fantasy instead. An abundance of pets, named after various Viking gods, helps to keep the creativity flowing. Freya, her ever faithful and beloved hellhound, ensures Lisa takes a break from the computer so they can rid the garden of cats with delusions of conquest.

  To find out more about me and what I’m up to come visit my website.

  http://www.lisablackwood.com/

  And my blog:

  http://www.blackwoodsforest.wordpress.com/