Chapter Nine
Olivia froze, staring at the two pieces of her most hated enemy. He’d been her nightmare for two hundred years. For two centuries, she’d believed she’d die at his hands—yet he’d fallen to her blade instead. Yes, he’d been overconfident, obviously expecting her to be the helpless little Sidhe matron whose life he’d destroyed so easily two centuries before.
But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d made herself into a warrior. And she’d killed him.
And I don’t have time for this shit. I’ve got to go help Rhys.
Assuming he was still alive.
Olivia turned and conjured a gate, aiming for the same destination Gorin’s had led to. The point of magic dilated into a round doorway, and she blew out a relieved breath.
It worked. She’d been terrified she’d have another seizure and end up trapped on Mortal Earth, helpless while Rhys died in the Mageverse.
But before she crossed, her gaze fell on Gorin’s corpse. She couldn’t just leave a decapitated body lying around. She gestured, impatient to be gone. Green fire roared up, destroying the assassin’s body.
Ashes were still flying when she leaped through the gate. Magic burned and foamed over her skin. Then she was through the doorway . . .
And plummeting toward the ground a thousand feet below.
As a child, Olivia had learned to fly the way Mortal Earth kids learned to swim. It had been a favorite trick: hurling herself from the top of a tree, surrounded by a cocoon of magic. The spell reduced the pull of gravity even as the aerodynamic contours of the shell caught the wind, allowing her to glide like a bird.
It had been more than two centuries since she’d tried that trick, but she hadn’t forgotten it.
Now she spread herself out in the air, letting the wave of magic surge around her, slowing her fall, then stopping it completely.
Levitating, she scanned her surroundings. Sick panic twisted her stomach. Sweet Goddess, don’t let him be dead! The red walls of cliffs rose to either side, jagged and threatening. The ground lay a long way beneath, threaded by the glittering trail of a river.
Slowly, she let herself drift downward, studying the landscape. Looking for any splashes of blue that might be Rhys’s polo shirt and jeans.
Nothing. Dammit, where is he . . . ?Be alive, dammit! Despair made her eyes sting.
Something dark slid up her right arm, then over the rest of her body. A shadow. Automatically she looked up, trying to determine what had cast it.
Two hundred feet above her hung a huge winged silhouette. Ice rolled through her veins. Oh, fuck, a griffin!
It resembled a winged lion—if a lion could grow to the size of an African elephant, with the enormous beaked head, wings, and tail of an eagle. Its wingspan had to be a good hundred feet. Unlike mythological medieval griffins, the Mageverse version had long-toed leonine front paws, more like hands than eagle talons.
Even as far away as it was, she could sense the magic that surrounded it—power enough to dwarf even Rhys’s.
I’m in deep, deep shit.
Griffins were scary bastards. Like dragons, they were intelligent, with their own language and incredibly powerful magic. They were also territorial as hell—and unlike dragons, they did not tolerate Sidhe in the Griffin Kingdom.
If that beast comes after me, I’m dead.
Had the griffin gotten Rhys? If so, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was still alive. She wanted to throw up.
No. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it, not until I find . . . She cut the thought off.
The griffin banked and began to spiral down toward her. As she stared upward in terror, she saw the beast appear to lurch in the air, great wings flapping as it tried to catch itself. For a moment, she thought it was going to fall right out of the sky. And with my luck, it’ll probably hit me on the way down.
The creature flung its wings out, beating them furiously. Olivia sensed a great blast of power. It’s using magic to fly. She stared up at it in confusion. Why levitate when it has wings?
Griffins were said to be skilled flyers, but judging by the way this one flailed, it was barely keeping aloft.
The beast descended toward her, reaching out a huge forepaw more like that of an ape than a cat. Each finger was tipped in a five-inch claw. Heart in her throat, Olivia shot a burst of force and swerved clear.
It roared in frustration, the sound shatteringly loud, edged with a high-pitched shriek that made her ears ache. She swore as it breathed out a great ball of magic that engulfed her like a carnivorous soap bubble. Olivia threw up a shield, but it did no good. The trap locked around her in a muffling blanket of energy that bound her arms and legs.
She lashed out with her magic as she’d done when she was fighting Gorin, but this time the geas’s green energy did not reinforce hers.
She remained trapped.
Great wings beat the air as the griffin headed skyward, hauling her along with him. Again, the beast seemed to maneuver more with his magic than his wings as he landed awkwardly on a flat rock outcrop overlooking the river.
Despite the clumsy touchdown, he brought her magical trap down as gently as a feather. Fighting the need to scream like a terrorized child, Olivia watched the griffin turn to her. It’s going to rip me apart and eat me.
The griffin’s great head lowered until its huge beak hovered over her face. Her heart pounded furiously as she clamped her teeth shut. Dammit, I’m not going to scream!
Fierce yellow eyes stared down at her, and its beak opened.
But instead of the roar she expected, it made a sad little croak. Rhys’s voice spoke in her mind. Oh God, Olivia, don’t be afraid of me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.
Which was when she realized that the griffin’s huge eyes were the same gold as his. “Rhys?”
You heard me? There was a note of frantic hope in his mental voice.
“You’re projecting your thoughts.” She studied his thoroughly nonhuman head. “Which is a damn good thing, considering the beak. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to talk. But that is you?” Her heart hammered with a combination of relief and dismay. Relief that he was still alive. Dismay that he was . . . this.
Believe me, I’m as shocked as you are.
“What the hell happened?”
I fell into that trap in the yard. The next thing I knew I was plummeting toward the ground from a thousand feet up. I thought I was dead. But I knew whatever had thrown me through that gate was back there with you, and I figured the only chance you had was if I saved you. I threw out a wave of magic at the ground, and I just . . . stopped.
“You levitated.”
I guess. I floated there flapping until I finally figured out how to propel myself through the air. That was when it hit me I had wings, and my body had become four-legged and furry—and feathered, sweet God. Olivia, what the hell am I? There was a note of panic in his voice.
She winced. God, this situation sucked. What were they going to do? “You’re a griffin.”
I thought that was a myth! He made a disgusted sound. But then I thought fairies were a myth, too. Did that asshole Gorin turn me into this?
She shook her head. “No way. He doesn’t have that much power. Anyway, he’s dead—I killed him.”
He blinked his huge golden eyes. You killed him? Already? How?
“Sword fight. He underestimated me.” Frowning, she considered his sheer size. Damn, she hated to say this, but it had to be said. “Maybe you’re a griffin because . . . you really are a griffin. Maybe your birth mother turned you into a human.”
His beak dropped open. You’re kidding me.
“I wish. Magically speaking, it’s easier to go from more powerful to a lot less than the other way around.”
How do I turn back?
Frowning, she studied him. “I’m not a shape-shifter, but with most spells, you focus on a mental image of your goal as you summon your magic. Depending on the complexity of what you’re trying to accomplish, that’s usually all it takes.”
Rhys clicked his beak and closed those great golden eyes. Magic began to roil the air around him like a great seething storm.
Olivia drew in a sharp breath. She’d thought he was powerful before, but this was insane. Do all griffins have this much juice?
The magic surged, intensifying until she felt the hot burn of it across her skin. He started to glow as the magic increased, growing brighter and brighter until it was blinding.
Oh Goddess, what if he destroys himself? “Stop!”
To her relief, the magic began to back off until she could breathe again. Rhys opened his eyes, looked down at himself, and cursed. It didn’t work.
“Maybe what we need to do is go to Avalon.”
Avalon? Where you said Arthur and his knights live?
That’s right, she’d told him about Gawain. “Yeah. I think Gawain and Kel might be able to help.”
How?
“Remember how I said Gawain’s sword was inhabited by a dragon named Kel? He broke that spell a few years ago. He can shape-shift into a human now. In any case, he’s got a hell of a lot more power than I do. Maybe he can help you recover your human form. I’m sure he’d be willing to try.” She frowned. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure where we are relative to Avalon, so I can’t open a gate there until I figure it out.”
How are you going to do that?
“A city full of magic users radiates a lot of power. I should be able to sense it. Once I get a lock, I can gate us closer and then ask permission to enter.”
You think they’ll take us in?
“They should. They are the good guys.”
Rhys blinked his big gold eyes at her. Speaking of good guys, what about the bad guy? What happened with Gorin?
* * *
As Rhys listened, appalled, Olivia described her battle with the assassin.
Let me get this straight, the geas helped you kill Gorin?
She shrugged. “It seemed that way. But just now when I was afraid you were going to . . . hurt me, the geas didn’t reinforce my magic at all. Which doesn’t make any sense. It’s almost as if it’s making decisions on its own, which shouldn’t be possible. Spells are like computer programs. They do only what they’re designed to do. They’re certainly not sentient.”
He made a croaking sound, then rumbled in frustration. Why the hell can’t I talk? Then he shook his head. Never mind, that’s a dumbass question. It’s because I have a beak.
“That would make it more difficult. I don’t know a lot about griffins, but I do know they communicate by mind magic.”
But I was never able to do this kind of thing before.
“Did you ever have to?”
Which was a damn good point.
“If I can obtain Kel’s help, he should be able to show you how to return to human shape.” Olivia knelt on the grass. “I’m going to need to scan for Avalon. Please don’t use any magic while I’m working, or you’ll interfere with my spell.”
Okay.
Her lovely face went still and cool with concentration as her magic swirled, gold mixed with the glitter of green.
For lack of anything better to do, Rhys sank down on his belly on the grass. Stretching out his forelegs, he crossed his hands—no, paws—in front of himself, then lowered his big head to prop his chin or beak or whatever on them. And brooded as he watched her.
Olivia could have been killed. That bastard Gorin could have chopped her into sushi and Rhys would have been helpless to save her.
Instead, she’d saved herself and come after him. She’d deliberately thrown herself through a dimensional gate a thousand feet in the air trying to save his life. If she’d lost control of the levitation spell, she’d have ended up splattered all over the ground like a bug on a windshield.
It would’ve made more sense to leave him to take care of himself. After all, he had a lot more magic than she did.
But she hadn’t, because she cared. Not merely because they were lovers, either. She’d have done as much for anyone she thought was in danger. That’s just how she was wired.
The knowledge hit him like a punch in the stomach, stealing his breath.
Olivia is the woman I’ve looked for my entire life. And not because she has magical abilities.
In the back of his mind, he’d always wanted a wife like the one his father had found—practical, intelligent, and yet with the bedrock morality that drove her to care about other people.
Olivia was that woman.
And just his luck, he’d promptly turned into something inhuman. He tried to snort in disgust, but the sound emerged as a kind of churrrr.
Impatient, frustrated, he jerked his head up. Movement caught his eye, and he looked down to see his long-toed hand/paws kneading the ground, claws digging furrows in the earth.
He’d always longed to know what explained his abilities. The old saying was true: be careful what you wish for.
If Olivia was right, he wasn’t human. The trouble was, everyone he loved was, with the possible exception of Olivia herself.
It made no sense that he’d fallen for her this fast. And yet he had. Which was no surprise, really. He’d never had a lover like her, never known the kind of pleasure she’d given him when they’d made love.
What if he was unable to return to human form? What if he was trapped like this? He flexed a paw, watching his claws extend like daggers, curving, black and gleaming.
Would he ever able to touch Olivia again? Hold her? Even kiss her, now that he had a beak?
For that matter, how was he supposed to eat? What was he supposed to eat? And how much? Considering his size, was he supposed hunt elephants?
Suddenly he could hear his mother’s tart voice in his memory: “Freaking out doesn’t solve the problem.” She’d said that a lot when he’d been a boy upset over some school project or clash with another kid. It was not a reminder he’d needed since becoming an adult.
Dammit, I’m still me inside the fur and feathers. I am going to figure this out. If I turned into this, I can figure out how to turn back.
Olivia’ll help. She’s centuries old—she knows a hell of a lot more about magic then I do. And then there’s the Knights of the Round Table, and her dragon friend, Kel. Somebody will know what to do.
But would she want a man she had to rescue from himself?
The question made his stomach twist. His parents had raised him to be strong. He’d certainly never lacked for self-confidence, especially once he’d realized his abilities. There was something comforting about being the most powerful man you knew, both physically and magically, whether anyone else knew what you could do or not.
He wasn’t used to feeling helpless, and he didn’t like it one damned bit. He . . .
Something brushed the edges of his awareness. He snapped alert, extending his awareness.
A wave of magic approached. Something powerful and fast.
Frowning, he stared skyward. Off in the distance, a pair of winged shapes soared down out of the clouds. Birds? No, they were moving too fast. He’d have assumed they were some sort of aircraft if not for the fact that he could see their wings moving.
Despite the distance, he saw the air ripple in front of them, sensed a burst of magic he recognized as an opening dimensional gate. Both winged silhouettes flew into the gate and vanished.
Yeah, that’s not good. Rhys rose to stand over Olivia, scanning the sky. Where’d they go? Could be they’d gated halfway around the planet—or could be they’d used the gate as a shortcut. . . .
A screeching roar blasted his ears. He jerked his head back. Two griffins hovered directly overhead, one white, the other black with a gray belly, their huge beaks opening wide. Their chorused challenge made the feathers rise on the back of his neck.
Then they dove right for him.
Shit! He pounced on Olivia, scooped her against his chest with one paw-hand, bounded for the cliff edge, and threw them both over.
Olivia yelped as they plummeted downward. “Rhys, what the hell are you . . . ?”
We’ve got company!
Before he could think anything more at her, something hit him hard in the back. Agony raking his spine, he almost dropped Olivia. “Rhys!” She wrapped both arms around his paw-hand with panicked strength.
He tightened his grip. Hold on!
Great wings beat with a thunderous flapping sound. Rhys twisted by instinct more than anything else, barely avoiding the claws that raked the air inches from his head.
A stream of alien images poured into his mind: Rhys being savaged by the white griffin and his black and gray partner. Wordless accusations about spies and thieves, and why was he bringing a fairy into their kingdom? A gut-churning image of the griffins ripping Olivia apart and eating her like cats devouring a mouse.
Oh, fuck no!
Repulsion and rage shot through Rhys. He screamed—half screech, half roar, all fury. Twisting in midair, he struck out with his free paw-hand, raking his claws across the white griffin’s head before it could take a chunk out of Olivia. Cursing, she threw up a hemispherical shield. It glowed green. What?
Screw it, he didn’t have time to worry about it. As Rhys launched himself at the griffin, another vicious blow between his wings almost knocked him out of the air.
“Magic!” Olivia yelled. “Use that fireball spell you tried on the werewolves! We’ve got to get out of here before they kill us!”
Right hand holding her close, Rhys called his power with the other. Magic burst blue-white and blinding around his claws.
Olivia stretched out a hand to touch his left foreleg and shouted a spell. The fireball he’d summoned blazed even brighter, going a searing, incandescent green.
The black griffin plunged down at him, wings folded, claws extended.
Rhys shot the fireball into his face, but it struck the blue glitter of a hemispherical shield. Crap, it’s just going to splash . . .
Instead the writhing ball of green light started eating into the energy barrier. The griffin screeched in alarm.
The green magic burst through the shield and exploded. The griffin’s cry became a shriek of agony as it went up like a torch, green flames leaping around it. The beast writhed, wings beating furiously, tumbling out of control to slam into the side of the cliff with a crunching thud.
The griffin fell, wings crumpled and broken, blazing like a green comet, to hit the river a thousand feet below.
The surviving griffin shrieked. Images flashed into Rhys’s mind, accusations about a queen who lied. There was an image of Rhys being ripped apart by a spotted griffin that was somehow a chief, and another of a golden griffin dying in agony for her treason . . .
The white griffin whirled and darted away, wings beating furiously.
Oh no, you fucking don’t! Rhys shot after him, propelling himself forward as much with his magic as his wings. As he flew, he began to conjure another ball of energy. He needed to kill the fucker. He drove himself harder, faster, summoning his magic . . .
But before he could fire, the white griffin conjured a gate, sailed into it, and vanished.
Olivia cursed viciously. “He’s going for reinforcements, Rhys. We’ve to get out of here before he comes back with too many for us to fight.”
But where are we going to go?
“I think I’ve got a fix on Avalon. We’ll have to gate there and hope they let us in before bird boy and company show up.”
She gestured, and a burning point appeared in the air. He curled both forelegs around her as it dilated. Pulling his wings in, he dove through.
Looking down, he saw a great city had replaced the red sandstone cliffs. It looked more than a little European as it spread over the low hills with a combination of gothic buildings, medieval stone castles, French chateaus, Gilded Age mansions, and one or two actual palaces.
“See if you can find somewhere to land out beyond the city wards,” Olivia called. “I’m going to reach out to Kel, try to get them to let us in.”
Awkwardly, Rhys began to spiral downward, fighting to maintain control. Oddly, flying had been a lot easier when he’d been fighting the other griffins. I’m probably overthinking it. He’d encountered the same problem when he’d first started Krav Maga training.
With a sigh, he studied the landscape with his magical senses, taking in the glittering hemispherical shield over the city. Spotting a likely landing zone, he headed for it . . .
And almost tumbled right out of the air when a deep voice growled, “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”
He jerked his head up to see a forty-foot dragon hovering above him with narrowed red eyes. His heart began to pound with an unaccustomed terror. The blue dragon was huge—easily twice his size even in griffin form. Hell, Rhys had flown in smaller jets.
Cold red eyes studied him. “I asked you what you’re doing here, griffin?” The eyes began to glow, and every hair and feather on Rhys’s body stood up. “And is that a woman you’ve got in your claws?”
“Hi, Kel!” Olivia caroled in a too-bright voice. “This is my friend, Rhys. We’re here because we need help with a little problem.”
The dragon peered at her suspiciously for a moment that stretched on far too long. Then its great eyes widened, the savage crimson glow fading into something that looked like astonishment. “Jocelyn, is that you?”
“Yes, though the name is Olivia now. I haven’t been Jocelyn in . . . Oh I don’t know, fifty or sixty years now.”
“What are you doing with that griffin?
“Actually, he’s not a griffin. Or at least, not just a griffin. But there are griffins after us, and one of them just threatened to eat me in graphic terms. I’d appreciate it if we could take shelter in Avalon.”
At that, the dragon lifted his head and stared around them, sending magic rolling over the area in a wary scan. “How many griffins are we talking?”
“Not sure. We killed one, but the other went for reinforcements. I got the impression he planned to come back with a lot of feathered friends.”
“If you need our protection, you’ve got it.” He turned his head down toward the city and breathed out a softly glowing ball of light. The shield dimmed in a spot directly ahead. With a flick of his tail, the dragon spiraled downward toward the opening.
Rhys hesitated.
“It’s all right, babe,” Olivia told him. “Kel’s an old friend of mine.”
Didn’t you say he was a sword the first time you worked with him? For God sake, how big was the sword?
Olivia laughed. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”
So he glided toward the ground after Kel’s whipping blue tail. He and the dragon set down in the middle of a city square big enough to accommodate them both. It was one hell of a square.
Rhys uncurled his claws to set Olivia free. As she stepped clear of his hold, women began to gather, apparently attracted by their landing. Oddly enough, Rhys didn’t see a single man among them.
Feeling more than a little conspicuous, he sat back on his haunches and folded his wings, aware of the murmur of voices speculating about who he was and why he was there.
The women eyed him, their gazes cool and curious. Magic swirled in the air—not quite forming spells, but obviously at the ready. None of the witches had the raw power he did, but there were more than enough of them to do real damage if they chose to. And several of them looked as if they were giving it serious thought.
Maybe he needed to look a little less . . . huge. Rhys settled down on his belly and crossed his paw-hands in front of him. Despite his howling instincts, he rested his beak across them in the same pose he’d seen the family dog assume when he was a boy. Think harmless thoughts.
He had the distinct feeling he didn’t want any of these people to see him as a threat.