Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

60

           
The farthest wall in my range of vision shimmered at the corners. Here and there, the sound of rhythmic chanting broke through the relentless chiming of the silver leaves.

Emily and the coven.

The knowledge that help was on the way spurred me to action. No one wants to be the damsel in distress, right?

I stepped around my big friendly gargoyle, who looked at me in confusion as I patted him on the shoulder. The coven were breaking through at the far side of the room. Rows of creatures separated us, writhing and creeping ever closer to me in unnatural and unwieldy motions.

Time to move.

Jumping onto the back of my gargoyle friend, I urged him forward the only way I knew how. Horse riding was a far cry from this. I just had to hope that he would understand my intention.

The big guy hesitated, unused to the sensation. I urged again. After a few moments of consideration, he let out an almighty battle cry before bounding forward with enormous strides, directly into the malevolent crowd.

Smaller gargoyles scattered away from his path in confusion. But the element of surprise was only a momentary advantage.

Soon they were swarming around his feet. He kicked out furiously as they bit and scratched his arms and legs.

I swung to the side, almost losing my seat. The motion pulled him off balance. I managed to roll out from under him a second before his large stone body crashed to the ground

It was then I noticed the hundreds of dents and nicks all over his body. Stone was strong, but the enemy was determined. My friend had suffered serious damage trying to protect me.

A pit of regret opened in my belly, but there was nothing I could do to help him.

He was the only thing keeping me from being pulverized, pressed to death under hundreds of dancing monsters.

That was not the way that I wanted to go.

I pulled him to his feet using sheer force of will and climbed back on.

The little devils climbed one on top of the other to launch themselves through the air. When I dodged, they flew over my head and melded back into the crowd.

There was no relief in these small victories. The punishing sea of gargoyles did not diminish, but each one came back, unrelenting, to try again.

Our progress through the crowd was slowing. We were less than half the way through the hoard that separated us from the wall.

It was only a matter of time until one of them hit me. I couldn't fight these creatures. I was flesh and blood, and they were stone, hard and unyielding.

As soon as the thought flitted through my head I realised what had changed.

My trusty steed was not cold or hard underneath me anymore. He was still solid, but his body moved fluidly like muscle under skin.

The stunted wings that had helped me to balance had been absorbed back into his body. I was slipping down him as his back straightened, his bones contorting under me.

Gross but oddly captivating.

He took human shape before my eyes and under my body, as I still clung onto him piggy-back style. Desperate to retain the small element of security that having a powerful ally had given me, I gripped his waist with my thighs and tightened my arms around his neck.

It was only when he began to cough that I realised I was choking him.

Awkward!

I relaxed my thighs and slid down until my feet hit the floor. It took longer than I expected. Where once there was a hideous beast of a gargoyle, there was now a large man, tall and muscular.

The faint green life-force buzzing around his golden skin told me he was a witch.

Looking up, I met a pair of serious pale hazel eyes and a mouth set in grim determination. Black hair fell down his back in smooth ripples, well past his muscular behind. He hadn't noticed his nakedness, or he didn't care.

Flustered when I realised I'd been staring, heat burned my skin in mortification.

He was a large guy.

"Uh, hi," I said, at a loss. We were past pleasantries at this point, but I was unable to come up with anything more appropriate.

My new friend continued to look at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

Give me a break, it wasn't every day that I was attacked by a hoard of angry gargoyles.

Or was faced with a large naked man.

Excuse me for not having small-talk ready for this precise situation.

And, why was I the one feeling self-conscious?