But before she crossed, she stopped short. Life wasn’t supposed to be mundane and routine. It was about change, about experiences, about dreams. About love. What if Trollwasher destiny? What if she spent the rest of her life comparing other men to him and none of them measured up? What if she regretted her cowardice every day until she died? What then?
No promises, but a chance.
She couldn’t live with thewhat ifs;she had to know whether or not Troll was the love of her life. With her heart lodged in her throat, Lia let the wormhole close.
Tremors shook her body when it disappeared, and she breathed deeply until the urge to vomit passed. It took another couple of minutes until she felt steady enough to walk over to Troll. She stared up at him, letting his steady gaze calm her. “I’m scared that I just made a big mistake, but I’m rolling the dice, Chris.”
Wincing, he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close. “You won’t regret it, I’ll make sure of that.” He kissed her, but before she was ready for it to end, he stepped away, took her hand, and led her back inside the pyramid.
“Chris!” she protested.
He shook his head. “Why don’t we make a pact? You can call me Chris when we’re home – alone – but otherwise it’s Troll. Deal, Ophelia?”
Now she winced. “Deal. You give as good as you get, don’t you?”
His smile was wicked. “Always. You’ll appreciate that when I have you in bed.”
Heat settled low in her belly and Lia forgot her terror and uncertainty. Life really was an adventure and hers was about to begin.
Iron and Hemlock
Autumn Dawn
Jordon flinched and shielded her eyes. The glow of lightning lit the darkness behind her lids, persisted in dots of colour as she slowly lowered her hand. She blinked, disoriented. Death was a lonely country road?
It was no wonder she was confused. Only moments ago, she’d been crossing the street on her way to meet the bus. When the speeding Porsche had lurched around the corner, then gunned for her with an angry growl, she’d known she was dead. Only the lightning had struckbeforethe car did. Had it somehow knocked her out of the way?
She drew a shaky breath and looked around. No. It was dark here, and stormy. The sun had been directly overhead in Spokane. The city had disappeared completely, leaving nothing but whispering trees and a crawling sense of unease.
A cold wind worked its way through her jeans, stealing her warmth. She hitched her light leather jacket closer and thanked God for the vanity that made her wear her cashmere and silk sweater, though it had been a little warm for it this morning. Unfortunately, the suede boots didn’t fare as well, quickly becoming waterlogged in the rain.
A flash of lightning illuminated the outline of a tremendous stone wall lining the dirt road. A quick glance showed nothing behind her – no lights, at least, which would have indicated people. A hundred yards ahead, the wall was pierced by a wrought-iron gate. As she drew closer, she could see that the panels were unlatched, swaying slightly in the wind, almost in invitation. When she was close enough to touch it, the torches above the gate flared to life,illuminating the gravel path. She glanced up and started slightly at the fierce gargoyles flanking the wall on either side.
As she watched, one of them blinked.
Jordon froze. But she was not the kind of girl who screamed and ran at every shadow, even in such dire circumstances. She watched the gargoyle instead. It did not take long to convince herself that she’d imagined it. The statue was obviously stone.
Still, she felt watched. She looked behind her, but there was nothing out there. Blackness, night. And yet she had the feeling that something was watching her; something other than the gargoyles.
Shrugging her shoulders against the sensation, she slipped through the gates. Uneasy, she glanced back, just in time to observe the wind pushing the gates closed. They shut with a loud clang and remained fixed, as if they had latched. Was she locked in?
She did not have time for further speculation. The sound of hoof beats heading her way made her stiffen. When she saw what was bearing down on her, she ran. She did not need the lightning to see the flames shooting from the head of the midnight-coloured stallion charging her way. His eyes and nostrils blazed, as if he were a living furnace. Sparks flew where his feet struck the earth, and the ground shook.
She doubted he was checking to see if she’d brought oats.
She did not get far before she was snatched from the ground by unseen hands and flung on the back of the nightmare horse. “Hide her, Sam!” a fierce voice shouted as she was dropped astride. She grasped franticly for the mane, scrambled not to fall off. It seemed safer to ride the creature than to fall under its hooves.
Unfortunately, Jordon was no rider. The glance she spared to see who’d dropped her unbalanced her completely and sent her tumbling from the back of the galloping horse. She landed on the wet lawn with stunning force, too dazed to move. Winded, she lay there as chaos reigned around her.
A scream jerked her attention to the right. Jordon peered through the curtain of rain, scanning the darkness. As lightning flashed, she gasped. There was a woman out there. Battling a . . . griffin?
Jordon had no time to fight with her automatic rationalizations that griffins didn’t exist; the woman was losing. Seizing a fallen tree branch, she struggled to her feet. There was a flowerbed in herway. Without a thought for the daisies, Jordon tramped through the plants and dashed across the wet lawn.
It wasn’t until she’d nearly crashed into the combatants that she realized her mistake. Up close, she could see that the “woman” was nothing more that a wasted wraith, a monster with bones peeking out where pieces of her had rotted away. Jordon could see the creature’s ribs through the rags it wore. It hovered over the ground, using a rusted sword to hack at the griffin. If the griffin hadn’t been such a tremendous jumper, gifted with wings, it would have been dead.
When it spotted Jordon, the wraith’s red eyes lit. It opened its mouth and screamed, a piercing shriek that paralysed her and sent her to her knees. She dropped the branch and pressed her palms to her ears, but nothing stopped the pain. Her ears had to be bleeding. She gritted her teeth, but couldn’t hold back a moan of agony. That sound would kill her.
The banshee had forgotten the griffin. He sprang at her while she was distracted, shredding the monster’s decayed flesh with his razor-sharp talons. The monster fell to the ground, writhing. With one final snap of his powerful beak, the griffin severed her head from her shoulders.
