Stone's Kiss (17 page)

He jumped into the air, an impossible leap. And never made it to her position. A darker shape collided with Alexander, slamming him into the undergrowth of the forest.

“Gregory!” Lillian screamed. The primal power of the Other awoke within her again.

Shrubs shook and snapped. The crunch of twigs and the smack of flesh on flesh dwindled into the distance as the gargoyle’s momentum carried the fighters deeper into the forest.

The other vampires ignored her, swarming after Gregory to overwhelm him with greater numbers.

Rage and power boiled up within her and she felt the taint of vampire a moment before she touched their thoughts. They planned to kill her gargoyle and then come back and finish off those still living.

No one harmed her gargoyle.

She sprang after them, rewetting her arrow with the fresh blood oozing down her arm as she ran. The wound still felt numb. It would awaken soon enough, but for now adrenaline drove her onward, her pains unnoticed. Her thoughts galvanized into one purpose. Kill Alexander. Kill the other vampires. She wouldn’t let them kill her gargoyle. Gregory had died too many times protecting her. Not again. Rage gave her strength and she ran, unheeding of her grandmother’s calls for her to return.

****

Gregory’s mouth filled with the rancid taint of vampire blood, and a darker power, but he didn’t release his hold on the monster underneath him. The dead carcass was half his size, but true demonic magic gave the unnatural beast strength, surpassing what was normal for a vampire. Fear solidified within Gregory’s soul.

If a true demon walked the land, then this undead creature was a pawn to some great master. And that darkness wanted Lillian. Gregory flexed his talons.

The vampire heaved up from the ground, and Gregory fought for a stronger grip on the foul creature. More were closing in on him. He could hear the baying of Death Hounds as another pack approached from the west. Precious time was slipping by. He should have been able to kill this creature with ease, but demonic–aided shields wrapped the beast in layers of protection he couldn’t breach quickly.

Two more vampires rushed out of the forest and landed on Gregory’s back. He speared one with his tail blade. At least the two new arrivals didn’t have the added protection Alexander possessed. Flexing his wings, Gregory dislodged the other vampire, but couldn’t release Alexander to kill it. It continued to circle him, nipping at him like a mad little dog.

It came too close and he snapped his head up and caught it under the chin with one of his horns. Blood momentarily blinded him. Alexander continued to twist, managing to dislodge Gregory’s talons every time he had a grip on the vampire’s head. Gregory held on. Barely.

Minutes ticked by as they fought until the vampire’s shields were frayed and blackened. Sluggish blood now oozed from hundreds of wounds, tinting the vampire’s pale skin bruise–dark, but Alexander showed no signs of weakening.

Gregory heard at least two more vampires crashing through the forest, shattering the undergrowth in their frenzied madness. When they emerged into the clearing, they didn’t slow, only changed their headlong course to run at him. The first hit Gregory hard enough to knock him from Alexander. The second one grabbed a wing, its claws shredding the membrane. Gregory yowled, and wacked the vampire in the temple. It didn’t slow the creature, and it came at him again. He caught it, and wrapped his hand around its skull and flexed his fingers. The skull cracked, his talons sunk into soft tissue. Twitching death throes took it. He was turning to deal with its companion when Alexander landed on his back. The vampire raised his hand to strike. Something darker than the shadows of the night glimmered in his hand, eating all the light. Gregory blocked Alexander’s strike just as Lillian burst into the meadow, a pack of Death Hounds snapping at her heels.

Her expression was one of rage. Blinded by her fear for him, she wasn’t using her other senses. His lady didn’t see the Death Hounds.

“Lillian! Behind you!”

Alexander struck with the blade a second time. The dagger found an opening, and sunk into the joint at the underside of Gregory’s wings. Shocking pain crippled one wing and then the wound turned ice cold as the blade started feeding.

Chapter Thirteen

Four massive hound–like beasts crashed through the forest in pursuit of Lillian, but she didn’t fear them. The Death Hounds fell in beside her. She knew them from a blurred and long–ago memory. They were hers to command. A gift from the Lady of Battles. How they had come to be enslaved by vampires was a question for another time. She touched their minds and sent them to intercept another group of vampires approaching from the north. The beasts surged forward to do her bidding. With the new threat handled, all her focus was for the two vampires still attacking her gargoyle.

Instinct told her Alexander was the real threat. She sprinted toward the vampire, but before she could reach him, he raised his hand and plunged a blade into Gregory’s back, close to the wing joint. Her gargoyle bellowed, twisting and clawing, unable to reach the knife. In his struggle Gregory knocked the vampire from his back. Alexander flipped through the air, hit the ground and rolled once. He lay still, face down.

Unmoving.

Easy prey. Her savage, rage–filled magic whispered into her mind. Whatever demonic power had given Alexander unnatural strength was exhausted.
Kill him now
, her Otherself urged.

But greater need drew Lillian’s senses to her gargoyle. Through their link, she sensed his waning power. He was dying, his life force draining away through the blade. Alexander rose to his feet, his usual grace hampered by his injuries. He put himself in her path.

Rage uncoiled in her stomach and two–inch long claws emerged from her fingertips. A ruthless need flooded Lillian’s mind. The vampire would die for what he’d done to her gargoyle.

Power continued to expand like a long–dormant flower unfurling its petals. Her forehead burned, as did the area between her shoulder blades, but a sweet, musky scent filled her nose, distracting her from the pressure building beneath her skin.

She advanced toward Gregory and the vampire. The undead gave her another cold smile.

“I remember you.” Her voice came out in a harsh, grating tone. “You were called Alexander.”

She returned his cold smile and rushed him. His haughty expression changed to one of shock as she sank her claws into his gut. She shoved with all her newfound strength, and her hand jammed up into his chest cavity, claws digging until she found his heart. The shriveled organ pulsed with a dark magic—one which anchored the vampire’s soul in the world of the living long past its natural time.

With the sharp crack of ribs, she pulled the heart from his chest. She called a small trickle of magic and closed her hand upon the heart. After a moment, dust poured between her fingers. The vampire slumped to the ground, shock frozen on his face even in final death.

Energy coursed within her, accompanied by a newly born strength. Delicious joy spread through her veins like the finest wine as the power built. Here was an immense magic fit to slay all her enemies. She would make certain her gargoyle and her family were safe. Starting with the Riven, she would demonstrate what happened to those who stood against her.

“My lady, you must fight it.” Gregory’s voice shook with exhaustion, but he continued. “Do not give in to mindless rage. Fight the darkness in your own soul or you will become what you plan to hunt down and destroy.”

His words cut through her intoxicating magic. The rage that had fueled it melted away.

Scattered thoughts rallied around the sound of Gregory’s voice, and the fog surrounding her mind cleared. She blinked for a moment, trying to remember what had occurred. How had she gotten here? Then she focused on the gargoyle and nothing else mattered.

Moving impossibly fast, she glided over the earth and knelt by his side. She cradled his head and surveyed the damage. A wing, shredded and collapsed over his side, hid what she sought. Gently, she pushed his injured wing out of her way and exposed the offending object. Though she must be causing him immense pain, Gregory remained docile under her hands.

Now she could see the wound clearly. A ridge of stone spread out around the dagger. After she urged Gregory onto his stomach, she laid two fingers on either side of the blade. Even without touching the metal, its evil burned cold against her skin. With her free hand she stroked Gregory’s muzzle and whispered nonsense to him.

His skin quivered at her touch.

“Easy,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his back.

Breath still hissed between his lips, rapid and panting. The throb of his great heart slowed. Touching him, his thoughts flowed to her.

He would turn to stone, try to heal, but it was doubtful if he would ever awake again in this Realm. There wasn’t enough magic to heal him in time to save her. The ones of darkness would hunt her down and either kill her or use her.

The gargoyle’s despair swamped her.

“Easy, big fellow. You’re not dead yet, nor am I.” She grasped the dagger’s hilt and pulled. The blade didn’t come free. She applied more pressure while she braced a hand against his back. Gregory grunted, but the blade refused to shift.

Magic uncurled within her blood and flowed into her mind. She paused at the foreign sensation of her magic whispering knowledge into her mind, then she listened without question.

Narrowing her eyes, she turned her thoughts to the blade. There was a sense of presence about the dagger. Self–awareness.

“I know what you are. If you don’t stop feeding and release my gargoyle, I will consume you.” She pushed her thoughts ahead of her as she leaned down to glare at the blade, forcing it to listen and become aware of her and the danger she represented. “If my gargoyle dies, I’ll destroy you. I’ll take you apart until your soul is bare before me. Then I will torture you. When I am finished, I shall remake you and drive you into the hearts of your masters. This I promise.”

The demon blade shivered and leapt free of Gregory’s flesh. It imbedded its tip three inches into the ground next to her. The dagger vibrated for several seconds before it stilled.

She paid the blade no more mind. Instead she pressed her hand against the wound. For now, there was nothing she could do for his physical injuries, but she sensed his greatest danger lay in his lack of magic. He’d been bled out magically. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but her magic stirred again, calming and guiding her panicked thoughts as it sorted through her memories.

Clear as if she was hearing the tale anew, she remembered the story of how the dryad queen had saved the gargoyle after he’d been wounded by demons. The queen had healed the gargoyle by sharing her magic through blood. And after Alexander had injured Lillian that day in the grove, Gregory had healed her, but he hadn’t said how at the time. Now she thought she knew. He’d shared blood with her. If Gregory’s blood could heal her, then it stood to reason her blood might restore him. And tonight she was full to brimming with magic. It still churned below her skin, calling for her to release it.

“You can save him,”
it whispered.

If her magic–laced blood was the best chance she had to save her gargoyle, she would give as much as required.

Dabbing at her bloody wound, she winced. Her finger came away bright red. When she held them up to his mouth, his nostrils quivered, but he didn’t go for the bait. Instead he turned his muzzle away as he curled tighter into himself. He broke away from her thoughts. She fought back, unwilling to let him go.

“I don’t want you to feel me die,”
he said into her mind, his mental voice weakening.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Rocking back and forth with him in her arms, she tightened her grip on his muzzle and guided his nose to the wound on her arm. He was too weak to fighter her, but he wouldn’t lick at the blood running down her arm either. Well, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She stuck her fingers in his mouth. “Take a little taste, my darling. That’s it, just a bit more.” As she’d hoped, he wasn’t able to resist and his tongue started lapping at her bloody fingers. Growing stronger, he sucked on them and then sniffed his way up her arm. He pushed the mossy–green sleeve out of his way and started lapping at the wound to clean it. Her magic rushed from her into him, draining her. But she didn’t care. Anything to save her gargoyle.

As more and more of her power spilled into him, her mind became foggy. She drifted for a time.

The surviving members of the Hunt found her there, holding the gargoyle’s head in her lap as she fed him her magic. Gran’s expression was a strange mix of fear and relief. Instinct told Lillian to keep what had happened to herself until she understood what was going on. So she didn’t tell them about the Death Hounds … or other things.

What other things?
she asked herself as she scrambled a moment for an answer. None came. Her memories were unclear, chaotic and sprinkled with holes. The Riven’s blade still glittered darkly beside her. There was something important she should remember about that too. As with her other memories, it was like someone had come in and stolen them while she’d healed her gargoyle.

When Gregory healed fully, he would have a lot to tell her.

More of the Hunt arrived as the minutes slid past. The other dryads entered the clearing. Seeing the downed gargoyle, they hurried to Lillian’s side. Sable offered to share some blood with the gargoyle to help him heal. Lillian nodded, and let each of the dryads share blood with Gregory.

When he started to stir awake, she leaned down and made a show of kissing him on his broad forehead, and then looked up at each of the dryads, making eye contact in case the others didn’t understand her claim.

Chapter Fourteen

The wait for Gran’s pickup was worse than Lillian imagined. Sitting helpless and cursing the Riven wasn’t the most useful endeavor, but it made her feel better knowing she was going to do them harm. The power which had reared up within her soul was receding, but it wasn’t gone. She could still feel the potential as it simmered below the surface.