Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) (13 page)

The day of the
masquerade arrived sunny and clear, with the promise of an equally temperate
night, which was good. The better the weather, the better turn out there would
be. She wondered if the Coven had something to do with the perfect day, but
hadn’t asked. She’d add the question to the list of things she planned to ask
Gran one day, if things would ever quiet down enough in her life to have something
as mundane as idle time.

She stifled a
yawn and took another sip of tea, and then shifted to find a more comfortable
position on Gregory’s stony thigh. Her beloved was presently resting on his
stone pedestal, like he’d taken to doing each dawn. Lillian hadn’t seen a
reason why she should change her long standing habit of having breakfast in the
center of her maze, in the shadow of her tree while sitting on Gregory’s knee.
She smiled ruefully. He made a solid bench, but maybe she should start bringing
a pillow.

Finishing her
bagel, she drew her legs up to brace her feet against his opposite thigh.
Sitting crosswise on his lap, with her back braced against his slightly mantled
wing, was the most comfortable position. She took another sip of tea and let her
mind wander.

In the five
nights since she’d first learned to shape shift, Lillian had met Gregory each
evening at sunset and he would run with her in gargoyle form, teaching her to
shape shift swiftly as well as how to hunt for herself. Last night, he’d
started her training in gargoyle magic.

Some things came
easily. She could cloak herself from detection without too much trouble, but
only if she held perfectly still. As soon as she moved, her shadow spell would
break apart like so much fog. Gregory assured her she was a quick learner, but
she couldn’t help feeling impatient with herself.

Tonight was the
Wild Hunt, and she and Gregory would both take part. A small, prideful part of
her spirit wanted to be able to match him stride for stride, spell for spell,
which of course was impossible since she no longer had her Avatar magic to call
on, but that prideful part couldn’t be reasoned with, it simply wanted.

Mostly to
impress Gregory.

Her cell phone
beeped again, almost a plaintive sound as if it was saying ‘stop wool gathering
and get something useful done’. She sighed and picked up the phone from where
she’d left it on Gregory’s knee.

She was just
thumbing through the assorted phone calls and text messages she’d been ignoring
when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A stranger dressed for
the masquerade in a long red cloak emerged from the surrounding maze. Lillian
tapped her phone off and then slowly straightened.

Alarm hummed
through her veins at the way the stranger honed in on her with a predatory
intensity. Sweat instantly broke out in a fine sheen across Lillian’s skin. The
woman had hair so blonde it was almost white and her complexion was equally
pale. Unmarked by blemish or age, she was strikingly beautiful. So much so,
Lillian suspected she wasn’t human at all, but a Fae, one of the Clan she’d yet
to meet.

More arrived
every day. There were so many strangers coming and going from her life, she
shouldn’t have been concerned by the arrival of one more. But she was.

“Hello,” Lillian
called and gave an accompanying wave. The stranger acknowledged her with a bob
of the head. “You must be new here. How may I help you?”

The stranger
brushed at her hair in a half-conscious manner and she walked closer to
Lillian.

“I
am
new
to the land. Perchance you could be of service.”

Perchance?
“Always glad to help.”

The woman
continued forward and then reached out to stroke Gregory’s stony flank. A flood
of instant dislike rolled down Lillian’s body. How dare the other woman take
liberties with her gargoyle?

“I’m sorry, I
didn’t catch your name…”

“I did not give
it. But to alleviate your curiosity, I am of the sea, one of the merfolk. A
siren. I see the gargoyle sleeps, is he unwell? This Realm can sap the strength
from even the greatest of us.”

Lillian snapped
her teeth together. Lying would only anger the Fae so she told the truth.
“Gregory spends the nights weaving metal and magic together, it is exhausting
work. But he is well otherwise, he merely rests.”

The merwoman
nodded. “As I journeyed to this landlocked place, I encountered many
whisperings among the Fae, the most frequent and interesting of how a gargoyle
once again walked this Realm. My inquiries unearthed that this was not just any
gargoyle, but the first and greatest of his race—the Sorceress’ Shadow. And the
Shadow is never far from his Sorceress.”

Lillian knew the
Fae had a number of titles for Gregory and herself, but she’d never heard him
called the Sorceress’ Shadow, as if he was somehow of lesser value, not worthy
of a unique title in his own right. Lillian took an instant dislike to the
underlying meaning.

The siren
smiled. It brightened her eyes, making her seem less daunting. “Can I assume
you will be participating in tonight’s Wild Hunt?”

“That’s the
plan,” Lillian said and then decided to hedge for a bit. “If we can avoid
drawing notice from the human authorities.”

“You worry over
the humans,” the siren said absently as she smoothed a wrinkle in her deep
scarlet cloak. “Odd. I would have thought humans beyond your notice.”

The alarm bells
in Lillian’s mind revved up another notch. “Other Fae may echo your opinion,
but I can’t say mine aligns with theirs. The humans, while lacking in magic,
more than make up for any weakness in numbers. And they have weapons that can
kill Clan and Coven. It would be foolhardy to strike out at the humans
unprovoked.”

“No, one should
never underestimate one’s enemy.”

The siren
touched the edge of Gregory’s stone wing, gliding her fingers up and over the
ridges of stone as she made her slow and methodical way around the pedestal.
The hair at the nape of Lillian’s neck raised to attention when the other woman
was hidden from view by Gregory’s wings. She didn’t release the breath she’d
been holding until the siren was again in her sights.

Lillian racked
her brain for something to say, finally settling on, “Will I see you at the
Wild Hunt tonight?”

“Oh, yes. I
wouldn’t miss it for all the power in the world.” The siren ducked her head in
Lillian’s direction, and bowed in what she could only liken to a deep courtly
bow. She turned her attention back to Gregory and gave him an equally deep bow.
“Until later, Lillian of the dryads and Gregory of the Livingstone. And if you
have need of me before then, call me and I will offer what aid I can. Long ago
I was called Tethys.” Then in an unhurried manner, she backtracked her way
through the maze.

Tethys? Lillian
might not be up on her ancient mythology, but she’d be willing to bet the name
harkened back to ancient times. She made a mental note to google the name
later. She followed Tethys’ progress with her newly heightened gargoyle senses.
When she was certain the newcomer was gone, she turned back to Gregory and
patted his stone knee. “I don’t care if the ward stone circle doesn’t consider
her a threat, something about her sets my teeth on edge. I’m going to go find
Gran and see if she knows anything about this Tethys. Rest well my love.”

Her plan lasted
a whole ten seconds after she’d exited her maze, whereupon both the caterer and
the florist descended upon her like the proverbial pack of hungry wolves. It
was close to sunset by the time Lillian escaped the bustle of tonight’s
masquerade and was able to finally seek out Gran.

The forest was
still, only the faintest of breezes stirred high up in the canopy. Nearby a
cardinal sang his location to his mate. Faintly, she heard an answering call in
the distance. Lillian wished she still had the ability to reach out and touch
Gregory over any distance as easily as the bird called to its mate, but that power,
like the other magic she’d commanded so briefly, was nothing more than a fading
memory.

“Well, suck it
up buttercup,” Lillian grunted under her breath. She’d just have to swallow her
nagging worry a little longer. She looked down at her watch. For once, luck was
with her—she’d made excellent time, and was almost to Gran’s rendezvous point,
and where Gregory would later join them. From there the Hunt would gather in
ones and twos to remain unnoticed, and then ride out once they had great enough
numbers. There would be no great circle dance in the old sawmill this time, but
the Wild Hunt would ride nonetheless.

Who said stress
wasn’t good for anything? It certainly made her legs move faster.

A dash of white
glinted through the trees just ahead. Lillian battled the urge to call out, but
held back on the off chance a military patrol was out this far. From the
reports of the other Fae, this sector hadn’t had any activity in two days. But
it didn’t mean it would remain free of mortal soldiers.

Lillian winced
at the term—now Gregory had her referring to others as mortal. Just when had
that happened?

The blur of
white came closer and resolved itself into the unicorn. He galloped to her and
then slowed to trot a half circle around her before coming to a stop at her shoulder.
With his usual tact and subtlety, he butted her in the stomach for a pat and
nearly knocked her nose off with his horn. “Watch it!”

Eyes streaming
in pain, Lillian rubbed at her nose with another muffled curse. With his head
hanging low, his ears forward, and his lower lip quivering slightly, at least
the unicorn had the grace to look somewhat sheepish.

“You’re
forgiven. Is Gregory here yet?”

The unicorn
shook his head in his version of a negative response.
“No, but Gran arrived
a short while ago. Come.”
The unicorn trotted off and Lillian followed him
to where her grandmother waited.

“Good, you’re
here.” Gran’s normally boisterous voice was subdued, barely above a whisper.

Lillian glanced
over at her grandmother in time to see her straighten from where she’d been
sitting on a fallen log. She brushed at her clothing, switching her staff from
one hand to the other.

Gran motioned
Lillian ahead as they started down a game trail. The unicorn took up the rear
of their silent procession. Even he seemed subdued, perhaps aware of the need
for quiet and stealth.

****

After another
fifteen minutes and unable to hold her peace any longer, Lillian glanced over
at Gran, gesturing at her own lips and cupped her ear with one hand.

Gran’s one
eyebrow crept upward in question. Her lips quirked a moment later. “Dear, I
know you were never very good at charades, and I take it the miming is not a
mini stroke, so if you were asking if it was safe to talk, I’d say yes.”

“Thanks.”
Lillian rolled her eyes heavenward and prayed for patience.

“The unicorn
said Gregory didn’t overtake you along the way. I’m surprised.” Gran glanced
around at the thickening shadows as twilight descended upon the forest.

The darkness
didn’t concern Lillian. She had excellent night vision. “Last I talked to
Gregory, he said he’d join me later, and he’d make sure we didn’t have any
spies on our back trail. That was last night. He was already stone by the time
I got to the glade this morning.”

Gregory’s
absence was logical, perfectly acceptable, and expected.

And Lillian’s
stomach was still a knot of tension.

The past week
had her on edge and meeting with the newcomer only made everything seem just a
touch more sinister.

“Gran, I was
sitting with Gregory this afternoon when a Fae I’d never met before came up to
us.” She paused, noting Gran’s narrowed eyes, the beginnings of concern. “She
called herself one of the merfolk—a siren.”

“A siren?” Gran
asked, her face remaining impassive but Lillian still heard what she left
unsaid, a very clear ‘why didn’t you say something sooner.’

Instead of
answering Gran’s silent question, she said what popped into her head.

“My gut told me
not to trust her—but it also tells me not to trust half of our Fae allies.
Besides, she was able to walk right past all the defenses without triggering
one single spell.” Lillian remembered something else that had bothered her at
the time. “She even touched Gregory completely without fear. Surely if she was
evil and meant harm, Gregory would have sensed it and reacted.”

Gran laughed, the
sound harsh, lacking all humor. “Our definition of evil and harm are probably
very different, and I know how Gregory thinks. If this Fae was evil, yes, he
would kill her without a second thought. However, a Fae might do much harm by
how you might reckon it, but if it was to maintain the balance, as Gregory
would say, then he might see it as a necessary, if distasteful, deed.”

Lillian’s
discomfort grew. What Gran said made sense. One only had to look to a certain
black pony with yellow eyes to know Gregory was more forgiving of some of the
Fae than he was about the matter of humans and their wanton destruction of
nature.

His judgment was
triggered by two things. On one front, whatever was a threat to her was
destroyed with extreme prejudice. And all other things which threatened the
great balance between good and evil were also neutralized in whatever manner he
deemed fit.

It left a lot of
neutral between the extremes of good and evil.

Gran’s eyebrow
arched higher, almost into her hairline. “Now give me details about this Fae.
Her power, what did it feel like?”

“Powerful,”
Lillian said and then tried to remember more of the meeting. “Powerful. Old.
Dangerous.”

“Well that
narrows it down a bit. Not in a good way, mind you. What else can you
remember?”

Lillian sighed
with frustration, at herself, not her grandmother. Why hadn’t she thought to
tell someone sooner? Why by everything good, couldn’t she remember so much as
the color of the Fae’s hair? “I can’t picture her…but she did give me her
name.” Lillian paused to drudge it up.

“Yes?”

Gran’s prompting
didn’t help. Lillian squeezed her eyes shut until it came to her. “Tethys.”

Gran’s quizzical
smile vanished, replaced by thin lipped tension. “You’re certain of the name?”

“Yes.” There was
no way she had conjured it out of the air.

“Warn Gregory.
Warn him now. Tell him a powerful siren is a threat to all we’ve worked for.”
Gran swung her staff up into a defensive position and gazed around at the
surrounding trees as if she expected an attack at any moment.

Gran’s fear
fueled Lillian’s own. In a stroke of pure gut instinct, she reached toward
Gregory’s sleeping mind and then remembered. “Dammit,” she said, wanting to
utter a stronger word but somehow held it back. “I can’t reach Gregory, not
over this distance. To be honest, I haven’t been able to since I emerged from
my hamadryad. I’m as good as useless.”

Gran frowned at
Lillian, her expression saying they would have a long talk about Lillian’s lack
of self-worth later. “If you can’t warn Gregory over a distance, we’ll just
have to get closer. Besides, I want to see for myself why Tethys has come. She
was never overly fond of land, disdains humans for their narrow minded hate and
greed, and dislikes Fae for their complacency. However, she had her own sense
of honor, or so my ancestors reported in their books of wisdom.”

Forgotten until
then, the unicorn drew their attention with a great rolling snort she had come
to associate with equine fear of the highest order.

Gran turned her
gaze upon him. “Will you help me, old friend?”

The unicorn made
another of those sounds of fear but bobbed his head in ascent.
“I will aid
you as I can, but I will not draw the siren’s attention, not even for the sake
of our friendship.”

“I ask no more
than you are willing to give.”

When Gran and
the unicorn started back toward civilization, Lillian cleared her throat, for
she still had questions. “Tethys is a siren. In mythology, they are known for
singing sailors to their deaths. But what of a real siren? Just what can she
do?”

“She can sing
enchantments.”

Enchantments,
those didn’t sound too terrible, but judging by Gran’s white knuckled grip on
her staff and the tight lines around her mouth, ‘enchantments’ could be far
worse than the word conveyed.

Perhaps seeing
Lillian’s doubt, the unicorn took up where Gran left off.
“Her voice can
strip away one’s will, enslave one so completely the victim is unaware they are
even trapped. If it is her wish, the slave is all too happy to die for her, or
kill for her.”

Lillian’s breath
hissed between her lips, more a strangled wheeze than a gasp of disbelief.

Disbelief was
far from her mind. It sounded all too terrible to be true.

“Who is in
danger? How many can she enslave at once? And is Gregory immune?”

“Everyone is
in danger. At least anyone within hearing distance. As for your gargoyle, I
don’t know, but Gregory is male and not at full strength.”

Cold sweat broke
out on her body. “We have to do something.”

“We will.”
Gran’s barked answer came out sounding drill sergeant hard.

Duly chastised,
she admitted she was being a panicky little flake. Her time with Gregory should
have taught her to better handle stress and threats.

Together they
would assess this new threat, and then they would formulate a plan. And if
Gregory was compromised, she’d just figure out a way to disentangle him from
the siren’s clutches. She owed him for all the times he’d saved her.

Everything
will be okay.

And water
runs uphill.

Biting back her
own sarcasm, Lillian cleared the lump in her throat and asked, “How can I
help?”

“Piercing your
own eardrums is the best place to start.” Gran’s tone came across with a deadly
serious edge. “I’ll create spells for the three of us. If the situation is as
bad as I fear, the spell will trigger at the first note of Tethys’s song. Then
we run like hell and worry about everything else later.” Gran paused, her
expression thoughtful. “Don’t take on your gargoyle form. You heal too quickly.
To be safe you may need to outdistance the reach of her song before you shift.”

As far as plans
went, Lillian decided it sounded as well thought out as one of her own.

“To coin a
human term,”
the unicorn injected,
“we’re so
screwed.”

Gran sighed.
“Perhaps the siren has merely come to join with the rest of us to battle the
Riven.”

Oh, Gran, you
lie worse than I do
.