Sorceress Hunting (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 3) (20 page)

Anna counted the nicks on the bathroom doorframe.
Taking out the knife she’d filched from Shadowlight’s bag, or rather the bag he
had filched from his father, she made a third notch below the first two lines.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

Dawn would be hello to day four.

And here she was still trapped in this godforsaken
room for three whole days.

Oh, she didn’t fool herself. Her life could be so much
worse. Shadowlight brought her food and clean clothing. The kid was
entertaining, she’d grant him that, but she was still a prisoner. After
Shadowlight had caught her trying to escape a second time, he’d had Greenborrow
strengthen his spells since she was able to circumvent any spell of
Shadowlight’s making.

In the last two days, she’d discovered there was more
than just physical changes. She now could ‘see’ the energy Shadowlight called
magic and she could even unravel the weavings. The unforeseen side effects were
more instinct than memory, but she’d still been quick to take advantage of it.

Regrettably, she hadn’t been able to bypass the
leshii’s shielding spells. She’d tried. Repeatedly.

Referring to the barrier as magic spells and wards,
while still mildly weird, was starting to seem familiar. Which was more
disturbing than the changes in her body.

Some of the alterations were beneficial, like her
ability to see in the dark, and her heightened sense of smell and hearing.
She’d bet she had greater stamina and strength, too.

Not that this tiny room allowed her the chance to test
her theory.

She was going stir crazy. The inability to do anything
might just kill her. Wouldn’t that save everyone a headache? Too bad she was
too stubborn to roll over and die—even if no one had ever, actually, died of
boredom.

Even pacing was out of the question in case the room
wasn’t as sound proof as Greenborrow claimed. The last thing she needed was for
more Fae to learn of her existence. With only the two, she still had hope of
escape.

Sighing, she sat down on the bed and rummaged around
in the nightstand for the books Shadowlight had stolen for her. He’d had an
agenda she’d soon found out. The kid loved to be read to, which shouldn’t have
been such a surprise. All kids liked to be read to, didn’t they?

Unfortunately of the five books he’d brought—one spy
novel, one detective, and two rather steamy romances, only the Jane Austen was
anywhere near kid-safe reading. So every night, she’d read Pride and Prejudice
to the young gargoyle for a couple hours before she chased him off to bed.

Rolling onto her stomach, she spread the remaining
books out on her pillow to sort through them. She’d already finished the
detective novel the first day, so she picked up one of the romances. At least
it was a historical. Maybe she’d learn a little history among other things.

With a chuckle, she flipped to chapter one.

*****

Hearing soft footsteps outside her door, she folded
the corner of the page down. It wasn’t like she had a bookmark. Besides, this
one was so dog-eared, one more fold wouldn’t be noticeable.

Shadowlight tapped softly. She knew it was the
gargoyle because Greenborrow didn’t knock, and if she’d been detected, it
wasn’t like anyone else would knock before storming the room. So she always
knew that soft, three part rap was the young gargoyle.

At least someone had taught the kid manners. It
certainly wasn’t the leshii.

“Come,” she called. Though she wasn’t sure if he could
actually hear through the barrier which doubled as both sound proofing for the
room and cage for her.

Shadowlight stuck his head in at her soft call. Guess
that was a yes.

He spotted her and then came in carrying supper. The
scent proceeded him.

“Oh, my god,” she muttered as she jumped off the bed
and snatched the tray from his hand. It was warm. In the past, he’d only been
able to snatch cold leftovers. Apparently, gargoyles didn’t do microwaves.
“That smells delicious.”

She set the tray down on the bed, looked around,
grabbed the only chair and dragged it closer to the bed. Shadowlight placed his
own dinner down next to hers and then jumped up on the bed as he always did.
There was no way he could fit in the chair anyway, so she felt zero guilt about
having the only seat with a backrest.

She took the lid off the covered tray—who actually had
covered trays in their kitchen?

“The trays are from the spa,” Shadowlight admitted.
“Gran intended me to take the food to Lillian and Gregory, but they went off
hunting in the forest.”

“Mmm…no use wasting good food. Keep up the good work.”
She grinned around a forkful of the divine-tasting stir-fry and watched as
Shadowlight tried to navigate the rice to his mouth without wearing it. She was
just opening her mouth to tell him to forget manners and just dig in when the
door shoved open with a crash.

Anna shot out of her chair. She snatched up the knife
she kept in the nightstand. Shadowlight was faster and lunged off the bed, his
talons extended and his lips curled back in a snarl.

The young gargoyle didn’t reach his target. A fiery
wall of power leaped up between him and the newcomer.

Before that fiery power had completely obscured the
newcomer, her heightened senses tagged what had invaded her room as deadly. Her
new talons lengthened, every instinct screaming this was a lethal opponent.

How exactly she knew that, she had no clue. She’d only
had a glimpse of crimson and black armor and sharp edges.

She circled to the side, her small, stolen knife in
one hand, the chair gripped in the other, ready to whip it at the newcomer if
she saw an opening.

Shadowlight’s magic slammed into the fiery barrier.
Steam hissed and curled up from the point of impact. She didn’t know much about
magic, but she did know Shadowlight’s power was cool, a chilled mist across her
senses. This newcomer’s magic must be as hot as it looked.

She wasn’t about to let the bastard land a blow just
to confirm her theory, though.

Speaking of landing a blow—that looked to be next to
impossible. He was covered head-to-toe-in medieval-styled armor like he was a
knight ready for tourney. It didn’t stop Shadowlight from trying his damnedest
to eradicate the newcomer. Anna inched closer, waiting for an opening.

Tin Man reached out and grabbed Shadowlight’s right
wing, jerking it hard enough to send the young gargoyle stumbling into the
wall. Seeing her chance, she swung the wooden chair with all the force in her
arms. It flew true to its target, splintering on contact.

The newcomer didn’t go down as she’d hoped, but her
move gave Shadowlight a chance to free himself.

The gargoyle dropped to all fours, attacking from a
new angle. Anna knew they were in trouble when Tin Man deflected blow after
blow without even looking at the gargoyle.

Tin Man’s attention was riveted on her instead. She
didn’t know what he found so interesting.

“Scrutinize this.”

She lobbed the small knife straight at his visor’s eye
slits.

He caught her knife by the hilt before it could embed
itself in his eye.

Shit. The fucker had reflexes.

“Well,” Tin Man said. “The boy is already showing his
potential. I had not expected him to start building our new gargoyle army until
he was mature. The little prodigal has been busy.”

Tin Man heaved Shadowlight off him and then slapped
out with some kind of physical wall of magic that sent the gargoyle flying
backward.

Shadowlight’s lower legs hit the end of the bed, and
he slid, half rolling all the way to the headboard. He slammed into it with
enough force to move the bed several feet across the floor.

“Mortal,” Tin Man drawled, “I need a moment for a few
words with you.”

A force hit her square in the chest and she was flying
backward. She slammed into Shadowlight’s still form. She wasn’t certain if he
was still conscious.

Instinct told her he was still alive.

Shadowlight moaned a moment later, assuring her he
was, indeed, still alive, and mostly conscious. He rolled to his side, planning
she knew not what, but his motion was aborted when he came in contact with some
kind of barrier suspended just inches above them. The heat rolling off it
warned her not to make contact. Then she realized it was descending toward her,
and she might not have a choice.

“Now, little human—there is no need to fear. I’m not
going to cook you for dinner. However, I do need to examine you, so you’ll be
coming with us.”

So he didn’t want to kill Shadowlight, or at least not
immediately. What he did want was a mystery, one she was happy not to know.

Tin Man glided to the bed and muttered a few words
over the struggling gargoyle. Shadowlight went limp between one second and the
next and the fiery barrier vanished.

From somewhere on his person, or maybe he pulled it
out of the air, a length of delicate silver chain appeared in Tin Man’s hand,
followed by a far-from-delicate collar.

With another mumbled word, the collar flared with
magic and Tin Man reached down and slipped it around Shadowlight’s neck. The
chain fused itself to the collar in some fashion she couldn’t see.

Screw that. Shadowlight wasn’t a dog.

In a move more bravado than brains, she twisted on the
bed and kicked out with her right leg. The toe of her sturdy boot caught him in
the side of the head. His helmet took much of the impact, but he still rocked
sideways and dropped the chain he’d been holding. While he was off balance, she
lunged at him, tackling him in his armored chest.

The impact felt like she’d been in a collision with a
tank.

Tin Man only staggered under the impact a half step.
Nonetheless, she accomplished what she set out to do. The hilt of one of his
large daggers now rested in her hand.

It would have been nice to have been able to snatch
the other one. Alas, she was lucky to have gotten this one.

“Hey, Tin Man, your blade’s got really nice balance.
Mind if I test it to see if it’s half as sharp as it looks?”

His lips thinned, clearly not loving that anyone would
challenge him.

A roar echoed through the room, catching them both off
guard. Ah, naptime was over.

Shadowlight, a blur of sharp talons and white fangs,
launched from the bed a second time, slamming their enemy clear off his feet. Tin
Man and the pursuing gargoyle tumbled out of the room and halfway across the
attic. Stacks of boxes and the odd piece of furniture toppling over or crashing
to the floor made enough noise to alert everyone within the house that
something was amiss.

Anna darted after them, looking for a place to strike.
Shadowlight had Tin Man in a choke hold, dragging him backward toward the
stairs. At that angle, she doubted Shadowlight could see the glowing ball of
fire in Tin Man’s other hand.

“Fireball. Right hand,” she barked the order and
lunged at the duo, her knife at the ready. She’d see if he could still do the
handy fireball thing without that hand.

Tin Man kicked out with both legs, his booted feet
catching her squarely in the chest. Again, she found herself flying backward.
This time a wall was kind enough to stop her.

She grunted and wheezed and cursed as she crumpled to
the ground. The bastard was half horse to judge by that kick. She lay a moment
more, her body unresponsive to her brain’s demands to get up. White and grey
snow blurred her vision.

Turning her head to search for signs of Shadowlight
and their enemy, all she spotted was a broken off two by four and a few pieces
of shattered balusters, which had once been part of the stairwell’s guard
railing.

Grunting, she heaved herself to her feet and ran after
the two combatants.

They were at the bottom of the stairs, the narrow
hallway hindering both of them, but Tin Man had managed to get the upper hand
on the young gargoyle. He had the length of chain in one hand, trying to attach
it to his own wrist, where a small circle of metal glowed evilly.

Her stolen knife gripped firmly in her hand, she
descended the stairs three at a time. She didn’t know what the leash and collar
were capable of, but Shadowlight’s desperation as he fought to free himself
told her enough. She landed in a crouch at the bottom of the stairs.

Tin Man cursed and lobbed a fireball at her. She
dropped to one knee and lurched sideways, her newly sharpened reflexes saving
her from a nasty burn or worse.

Shadowlight roared, the sound echoing down the hall
and farther out into the house.

Someone was bound to hear and come to investigate. It
just might not be soon enough.

Tin Man had Shadowlight on his back and had looped the
chain around the young gargoyle’s throat. With a mighty heave, he dragged the
gargoyle backward, while sending fire back in her direction.