A shriek awoke Dawn and she sat up, disoriented. Dark had fallen, but the full moon overhead shone down on the garden. A pale silver light washed the hedges and turned them into a solid wall of stone, imprisoning the ailing tree. By now, Jasper would have arrived at the cottage and discovered her missing. Would he scatter the ravens and find her tucked up in the tree roots?
She climbed up onto the jutting roots and peered around the trunk of the tree. There seemed to be another tree attempting to break free of the yew hedges. This one was short and slender with a tangled mop of branches and twigs.
Dawn rubbed at her eyes. She couldn’t remember seeing the smaller tree over by the side when she had climbed through the vine barrier. How had a tree sprouted in such a short period of time? Or perhaps she had missed it with her concentration on the Ravensblood.
Then the tree moved and detached from the hedge. No, it pushed through the hedge. It walked to the centre of the lawn, trailing roots behind it like the train of an evening gown. Its rounded top moved back and forth as though it sought something. The head of foliage arched back, a knot hole became a gaping mouth, and it shrieked at the sky.
“Ava,” Dawn whispered and under her hands, a shiver ran through the Ravensblood tree.
This was what had become of the woman who bore a child to Julian.
Somewhere in the night, another beast roared in answer. A beat thrummed through the air, becoming an audible whump whump as the creature approached. The roar sounded again from nearby, and then a shape appeared over the top of a hedge and dropped onto the grass.
Dawn’s hand flew to her mouth to bite back a gasp. The new arrival appeared to be carved from stone or granite. Over seven feet tall, it had broad shoulders and stout, thick arms, and it stood upright on two muscular legs. Its back was to Dawn as it faced off against the tree wraith that had once been a woman. Wings that spanned fourteen feet jutted from its back and had the wrinkled, parchment quality of bat wings. Each wing ended in a long, hooked claw. It was an ugly, misshapen thing that reminded her of the gargoyles adorning both entrance gates and the main stairway.
The small mobile tree took on the vague form of a woman. The trunk had a distinctive nip to a waist and then a flare over hips. The riot of branches and leaves turned into writhing, living hair like a woody Medusa. Another two branches became arms with twigs for fingers. A tumble of branches mimicked a bustled skirt that fell to the train of roots.
The two creatures faced one another and scream was met by roar. The creak of branches rubbing together clashed with the rough grate of stone. The tree grew more limbs that snaked around the gargoyle’s arms. The Ava-tree moved close and pressed her wooden head to a stone one in what appeared to be a kiss.
Dawn stood transfixed as a fight ensued between the two combatants. The gargoyle roared and tore at the tendrils on its arms, freeing its body. Then it swiped an arm at the tree creature. The wood wraith danced backward like a willow, bending away and under sharp claws.
Like snakes following a charmer’s command, vines crept from the yew hedges and surrounded the gargoyle. They encircled ankles first and then rose higher up stone legs. The gargoyle clawed at the climbing vine, but it would not be dislodged. Large wings flapped and roiled the air, but the creature only managed a few feet off the ground before the grasping plants pulled it back down to earth. More vines flowed up and over its wings and held them in place.
The tree wraith moved around the gargoyle. Twig fingers scratched at stone like nails dragged down a chalkboard. The winged creature shuddered and struggled to twist away from the tree. Then the wooden woman stepped back and screeched. The vine answered her cry and cracked like a whip, an action that pulled the gargoyle’s feet from under it. The large creature hit the ground with a thump that reverberated under Dawn’s feet.
It rocked and thrashed on the ground, fighting to right itself. The vine split itself over and over until it resembled the tight knit of a net and flowed over the gargoyle’s wings. The bat-like wings were now trapped underneath its body by woody chain mail. But did the vine embrace the gargoyle or restrain it? Offshoots trailed over the ugly creature and appeared to be caressing its stone form.
The tree wraith’s trunk split into two, forming some semblance of legs, and it straddled the fallen gargoyle. Leaves sprouted down the tree trunk and flowed out like the flare of a robe with kimono sleeves and partly obscured Dawn’s view. The foliage moved and flowed on an unseen breeze.
The screams changed tone and became moans as the woman-tree rocked over its captive. Oh. Dawn had heard such noises before, coming from her parents’ bedroom at night.
Bile raced up Dawn’s throat. She swallowed the repulsion but dug her fingers into the Ravensblood’s bark so tight a sliver pushed itself into her finger. She sucked in a breath at the burst of pain.
The creature on the ground twisted as it thrashed back and forth so violently the enveloping leaves above it parted. The gargoyle’s monstrous head turned and lifted. Its stone eyes fixed on Dawn.
She found herself staring at a square face with deep frown lines chiselled on the brow. Lines her fingers itched to smooth out.
Impossible.
Grey eyes laced with mercury turned silver by the moon light. A gaze she knew.
Jasper.
“No.” A single syllable rasped from her dry throat.
Why was Jasper doing such things with…that?
And when was he going to tell her Warders could take on such a shape and form? He had kept that knowledge from her, along with the truth about his ties to Ava.
The stone monster roared as it renewed its efforts to break free. Its body shook as it raged against the vines and wooden nets binding it and holding it to the ground. The tree wraith cried out with its head arched back. It made a shrill noise that pierced Dawn like the splinter of bark and thrust deep into her heart.
Dawn had seen enough and didn’t want to know what games the two creatures played in the dark. She bolted around the entwined forms and dove for the thorny barrier. She scrambled through the vine and squeezed back through the slender gap, not caring that the sharp thorns tore at her robe and pierced her flesh underneath.
Once free, she kept running. Her feet pounded down the dark path as screams and roars came from behind her. Tears blurred her vision. She was a fool. Had Jasper and Ava planned this all along? He had strung her along with tales of an unbreakable bond, and poor na?ve fool that she was, she believed him.
The two were obviously intimately connected, no doubt by the bond between them of Lord Warder and the heart. A bond he had offered to Dawn. Instead, she found herself the unwilling third point to this triangle. Or had he lured her to Alysblud merely to use her as some pathetic sacrifice to their god?
Something yanked at her hair and she pulled to a stop.
No! her mind screamed. She wrenched sideways and bore down as pain shot over her scalp. She threw out her arms but encountered only unwieldy yew. Disoriented, blinded by the dark and tears, Dawn tried to remember where the path lay. It should be simple; there was only one path, yet she struggled to find it. Her outstretched hands encountered only yew and vines.
Onward she ran as invisible talons scratched at every part of her. Her body was scraped and grated as she plunged off the path and into the thick hedges. Agonising lances were thrown through her body and exploded along limbs, back, and scalp. Tears rolled down her face as she chastised herself for being a deluded fool.
Just as darkness reached out for her, Dawn realised the depth of her feelings for Jasper. For years, she had assumed her end would come when her heart wore out and quietly stopped beating. Instead, on seeing Jasper with Ava, her heart broke.
22
A stab of pain drilled into Dawn’s skull and pulled her from the void.