Sorceress Hunting (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 3) (2 page)

Lillian sat curled on the couch and stared at the
television, a cup of tea growing cold in her hands. Every few seconds, her
attention switched between the media’s special presentation covering the events
of the night before and the messenger spells her grandmother was weaving where
she sat on the opposite end of the couch.

The powerful spell Gregory had summoned to heal the
Fae injured during the Rivens’ attack had also knocked out the power grid, cell
phone service, radio, internet, and most other modern conveniences.

Only after the battle’s subsequent cleanup had they
learned those services were down. The power grid came back online first,
followed by radio and television. Unfortunately, cell service was still down.

Hence why Gran was using messenger spells to relay
orders and news among the Clan and Coven. Gran whispered the ending
incantations of the spell. The letter she held flared with light as magic
transformed it into the shape of a hummingbird. It hovered above Gran’s open
palm for a moment more before zipping out the open patio doors.

Lillian stared at where it had been, still mesmerized
by the whimsical, though presently useful, bit of magic. It was the fifth one
Gran had made, and Lillian still marveled at it.

In her defense, she was operating on only three hours
of sleep. Which was nowhere near enough time to recover or process all that had
happened. Her other half was doing a better job of focusing. Currently, he’d
stopped pacing to study the television.

She wasn’t sure how much he understood—he was very
intelligent and knowledgeable about all things magical and the universe, in
general, but she didn’t know if he grasped the finer points of modern human
culture.

Up until this point, her gargoyle protector had done
his level best to avoid and ignore the humans, but by the way he focused on the
news, with his ears flat against his mane and his tail flicking in agitation,
she imagined he was starting to rethink his opinion of humans and how he viewed
them.

‘Yes, my love,’
she
thought to herself,
‘the humans are a force to be reckoned with. You can’t
just continue to pretend they are unimportant and of no consequence.’

It was close to noon, and the last of the Fae search
parties were straggling back to the cottage a few at a time.

They were using cloaking magic to hide. The whole area
was under a military lockdown, and any suspicious movement would bring a storm
of local authorities down upon all their heads.

The word among the humans was that a suspected
terrorist attack was still being investigated, but nothing had been confirmed.
The news switched between images of scared people being herded back to their
houses, grim-faced police, grimmer-faced military, and clips of an earlier riot
caused by some hotheads.

Though unknown to the humans, the minor act of civil
unrest had been squelched by several Coven members weaving spells to pacify the
worst of the fear.

Gran had said there had been enough bloodshed in the
last twenty-four hours to suffice. They didn’t need more. Besides, the spells
were easy enough to cast with the plentiful magic Gregory had summoned. More
magic was saturating the Mortal Realm than it had seen in hundreds, if not
thousands, of years. Of course, the magic would soon diffuse across the globe,
so the local concentrations would diminish. For now, the Coven and Fae seemed
to be enjoying the bounty, even if the situation requiring it was less than
ideal.

It should have been enough her loved ones had all
survived, and the Riven had been exterminated, but Lillian couldn’t relax.

Of course, disaster might come from a completely
different quarter.

Her hands strayed to her flat belly. She prayed it
would stay that way. Her mind was in the process of conjuring up all the
possible disastrous complications a pregnancy might invoke when the news
anchorwoman informed the viewers a press conference had just been announced and
would start in a few minutes.

Lillian’s cynical side wondered if whatever the press
conference revealed would make the possibility of a baby seem less dire in
comparison.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Gregory
shifting a wing out of his way to squint over his shoulder at her.

Oh, shit. Mr. Hyperaware was picking up on her worry.
Maybe he’d think it was the news and the humans.

She gestured first at Gregory and then at the couch
beside her, hoping he’d think she just wanted comfort, and not guess she was
actually trying to hide something from him.

As he was prone to do, he didn’t respond the way she
thought he would. Instead of sitting on the couch next to her—which wasn’t
really big enough for an eight-foot-tall gargoyle, she admitted—he settled on
his haunches and leaned against her legs.

“What do you think about how the humans are responding
to this new crisis?” Gregory’s deep voice soothed her nerves even if he asked a
question she didn’t know how to answer.

“Honestly, I thought they’d have stormed our walls
already.” Lillian shrugged and then narrowed her eyes. “We know from what we’ve
overheard that the human authorities—at least the military—suspects our family
of some involvement in the strange occurrences. And that we just
happened
to plan a masquerade on the night the Riven attacked? They’ll find it too much
of a coincidence not to investigate.”

“I would hunt out the truth, were I them,” Gregory
acknowledged.

“Exactly.” Lillian sipped at her cold tea as she
glanced back at the television. An official was introducing someone in uniform.
“But then, what if they found something more interesting to study than us?”

Gran and Gregory turned their gazes fully upon her.

“Surely you’ve both had the same thought by now?”

They glanced at each other in silence.

“Oh, come on. I can’t be the only one to worry the
humans might have caught one of the Riven. Gran, you said before they had found
Riven bodies. What if they found live ones?”

Gregory rumbled an unhappy sound. “We will infiltrate
their ranks and learn if they have managed to capture one of the beasts. It’s
possible one may have evaded our search spells. If that is the case, we must
dispose of it before it has a chance to infect others.”

Gran raised her hand and pointed at the television
while at the same time turning up the volume. “We may have other concerns.”

Lillian followed Gran’s direction. Undaunted by the
flash of cameras and the shouts of reporters, a group of military brass had
gathering in front of the town hall, using the first landing of its stairs as
an impromptu stage.

The speaker on screen, a man of some distinction in
what Lillian would guess to be his late forties, was saying no one had claimed
responsibility for the attack. The as yet unknown gaseous substance, which had
rendered its victims unconscious or caused them to have mild hallucinations,
seemed to have no other long-term side effects. However, the local residents
would all be screened to rule out further danger.

“Gas attack, my ass,” Lillian muttered under her
breath. “I told you that’s what they’d call the Siren’s enchantment.”

“In this instance, a lie serves us much better than
the truth,” Gran countered.

“True.”

Gregory made a deep huffing sound. “They have
something else planned, you can read it in their expressions, even over that
strange device.” He gestured at the television with a vague motion.

Lillian realized Gregory was correct. “Blood tests,”
she guessed. “They are going to go door to door collecting samples. I doubt it
will be voluntary.”

“Indeed.” Gran muttered a curse under her breath.
“Since they were shooting at the Riven too, they damn well know it wasn’t a gas
attack. They’ll be looking for a way to ferret out something other than humans
with their tests.”

“Blood test equals DNA tests you think?”

“Yes.” Gran’s expression turned distant, meaning she
was deep in planning mode.

Gregory swiveled his ears in the direction of the
kitchen, and more specifically, the back entrance to the cottage. The sounds of
conversation drifted to him, becoming clearer as the two came closer. Lillian’s
older brother, Jason, and her uncle entered the house and made for the main
living area.

He didn’t bother to summon concealing magic as the two
Coven members were alone. Though he was tempted to merely for a reason to use
magic. It was the only power he still had sole discretion over not requiring a
direct command from Lillian. He fingered the tattoo collar circling his neck.

Even that meagre power was his to call only because
she had already made it a command. They hadn’t had time to study the full
limitations his tattoo imposed upon his magic, not yet. But they would need to
learn and study how greatly he was crippled. At least, with Lillian’s order, he
was able to access his defensive magic to protect her.

In the last few hours, they’d discovered Lillian
couldn’t give him complete access to all his magic in a broad sweeping command.
The tattoos didn’t allow such. His skin still felt raw from the tattoo’s
blistering warning.

When she would have issued a dozen different ones,
he’d cautioned her against it. Being decapitated by the tattoo-like slave
collar was not how he wished to return to the Spirit Realm.

For the time being, the magic under his command was
limited to the ability to hide in shadow, track his prey, and detect evil
should it venture within range. He didn’t even know what that ‘range’ was as of
yet.

But he would learn, and overcome these new
disabilities.

He watched Lillian as she came to her feet at the
arrival of her brother and uncle. After brief hugs, they exchanged stories.

“The whole town has been asked to remain in their
homes,” her uncle was saying, “until such a time as it is deemed safe for
residents to venture out again.”

Gran cleared her throat, “In other words, we’re in
lockdown until they have poked, tagged, and categorized everyone to their
heart’s content.”

“Those were my thoughts exactly,” Uncle Alan agreed
with a nod, a frown darkening his expression.

“So,” Jason said, not a hint of his usual jovial attitude
in attendance, “when, where, and how are we getting out of dodge with the
lockdown in place?”

“We’re not.” Gran’s voice held a fierce edge, one
Gregory admired.

She knew the reasons they couldn’t leave. Not that
Gregory was going to be run off by a pack of misinformed mortals.

“We can update our disguises and cover stories, and
start over elsewhere,” Jason continued doggedly. “It’s not like the Coven
hasn’t done it before. It’s a damn better option than getting tagged and bagged
for some scientist to dissect in a lab.”

“Jason has a point,” Lillian’s uncle added as he
rubbed at his beard. “It’s going to get a little tense around here. There’s no
way we can avoid the medical teams they are sending house to house, not without
shouting we’ve got something to hide.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gran shook her head. “We can’t run.
Not this time. Lillian’s hamadryad is here. If it was a regular hamadryad,
Lillian could take a cutting and start over somewhere else. However, this
hamadryad is presently also the Mother’s Sorceress. I do not feel comfortable
leaving such power within easy reach of the humans. Perhaps the humans will
never guess she is more than a tree, but I won’t risk all the remaining magic
in this realm on wishful thinking.”

Gregory stretched and shook out his wings, and then
dropped to all fours. He walked to Gran’s side and gave her a playful head
butt. “Both wise and beautiful. No, I won’t leave Lillian’s hamadryad, nor will
I abandon my other Fae allies. Many of the Clan are tied to the land and their
territories, and cannot move easily.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Gran said with a
twinkle in her eye. “We’re going to stay and give the humans exactly what they
think they want.”

Lillian’s curiosity washed over him, resembling a
turbulent wave even with several feet of space separating them. As he expected,
she jumped into the conversation. “You plan to use magic on the humans, to
somehow make them think they’ve tested us already.”

“A good guess, but no,” Gran said with a grin. “While
that would work, it would take a huge amount of magic and planning. No, I plan
on giving the samples, but then later following them back to their lab where we
will switch them with samples of human blood. We already have some in storage
for just such a need, but we didn’t plan on such a large scale situation. To be
safe, we’ll require enough for the entire Coven membership. For that amount,
we’ll immediately start canvassing neighboring towns for unsuspecting humans
matching Coven members’ appearances. With luck, we should be able to trick the
human scientists without having to use magic upon them.”

Lillian cleared her throat. “Still, it isn’t going to
be easy sneaking in and switching samples.”

She compressed her lips as she was prone to doing when
she was planning. He found it an endearing trait and simply let the
conversation flow around him. They’d eventually come to the same conclusion he
already had.

Knowing that, he reached out with a tendril of magic,
seeking the other two gargoyles in this realm. The first he brushed against was
a bright young magic, flashes of excitement and curiosity bleeding across the
link. Shadowlight, then. Lillian’s newly discovered younger brother. The sense
of happiness and willingness increased when the other realized it was Gregory.

“Sorry, young one. It is your father I
need.”

With a mental acknowledgement, Shadowlight vanished
from Gregory’s thoughts to be replaced by the more disciplined mind of Stalks
the Darkness.

“Avatar, how may I be of assistance?”

“We have learned the humans plan to study
the blood of all the townsfolk, hunting for differences which will allow them
to track the magic users.”

There was mental silence, followed by a hesitant,
“You
wish for me to seek out the humans behind the threat and deal with them before
they can unearth something you would prefer remained hidden?”

Gregory missed working with others of his kind. Life
was so much easier viewed through a gargoyle’s viewpoint. Innocents were
protected. Threats were dispatched. Evil wasn’t tolerated. Life was good.

Gregory sighed deeply.
“Alas, no. This is not our
realm, and so we must abide by the Clan and Coven’s wishes in this. At present,
they are a touch divided but it looks like they will allow the samples to be
taken to offset suspicion and later we’ll replace those same samples with human
blood they have collected from other sources.”

“I see,”
Darkness said and
then launched into his own report.
“The leshii, Greenborrow, warns of
another development. Several of our patrols have found human soldiers among the
Riven dead. Those already infected by the Riven were dispatched. Those deemed
uninfected have been taken to the healers to have their wounds treated and
their memories wiped.”
Darkness paused before continuing,
“I have more
disturbing news. When last I spoke with Greenborrow, he was looking for the Fae
leader, Whitethorn and a sprite by the name of Goswin. I believe I may have
found what became of them. During the last leg of my patrol, I caught the scent
of Whitethorn. I followed it and came upon a large group of humans in a meadow.
They were studying the area. By the smell of blood and the gore splattered
around the meadow, a vicious battle had been waged there. There were no bodies
present. Either other members of the Clan had been there before me and started
cleanup but had been interrupted before they could finish, or they hadn’t been
there yet and the humans had already removed the bodies.”

“Can you tell if Whitethorn and Goswin
survived the battle?”

“No, not after the humans had trampled all
over everything.”

There was another pause, and Gregory sensed the older
gargoyle was talking with his son.
“I’m sending Shadowlight on ahead to meet
up with Greenborrow. I don’t want my son near these humans.”

“Agreed,”
Gregory said,
belatedly feeling a little uneasy for allowing the gargoyle child out in the
field at all.
“The leshii can watch over Shadowlight. Once he’s safe, return
to the cottage as soon as you’re able. By then, the Coven should have collected
all the human blood they will need. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can
learn.”

Gregory released the other gargoyle’s mind and
returned to his body, becoming aware of the stone cottage and the warm homey
smells of the kitchen.

The other conversation had run its course. Lillian and
the Coven members all watched him with silent patience. He touched Lillian’s
mind.

Ah, they’d come to the same conclusion as he had
earlier.

“I’ve spoken with Darkness, and he will aid us in
sneaking into the humans’ domain when it’s time. However, we have a new
development. Greenborrow and Darkness have found human soldiers, some wounded
and others infected by the Riven. Darkness also reports he found signs of
Whitethorn and Goswin.” Gregory flared out his wings, stretching and limbering
up tense muscles. “It looks like they may have been found by the humans. We
have no way of knowing their condition until I’ve had a chance to investigate.”

Stepping into his path, Gran blocked him as he made
for the back door. “You and Lillian will need to be here when the humans come.
I can’t imagine we will be last on their list, more likely among the first
wave. Whitethorn and Goswin will have to wait for their rescue until the rest
of the Clan and Coven are safe.” Gran frowned unhappily. Though he didn’t know
if it was because she hated to make her friends wait, or if she doubted they
were alive.

Gran braced one hand on her hip while the fingers of
the other hand drummed out a rhythm on her thigh. “You’ll have to be human when
they come and be docile while they take your blood.” Gran looked thoughtful and
added, “At least it’s a mostly human looking red. Can you spell it to look
identical to human blood?”

“Easily,” he rumbled as he stepped around her. “Do not
fear. I will be on my best behavior.”

He chuckled at Gran’s disbelieving look and then
turned to Lillian.

Her expression showed a mix of unease and
determination.

“Tonight after we’ve switch out the blood samples,
we’ll look for Whitethorn and Goswin,” Lillian said without taking her eyes
from him. “Obviously, we’ll have to hunt up whatever other evidence the humans
have found and destroy it.”

“Yes.”

He knew what Lillian hadn’t said. They would reclaim
the bodies of Whitethorn and the sprite if they hadn’t escaped the battle
alive. Which, he was coming to think, was very likely.

Whitethorn was powerful and old. If he lived, he would
have found a way to communicate with them or escape. That he hadn’t done either
meant he was likely already dead.