I did see that, as well as a strange sheen that reminded me of the magical barrier I had to plunge through in my gargoyle form.

“Just walk through,” Niamh said again. “Or, better yet, have Earl do it. Give him a purpose.”

“A purpose? I’ve been the only one speaking sense this whole time.” Mr. Tom stepped forward, but I put my hand out to keep him back before passing off the flowers to the basajaun to hold.

“Given no trade has been initiated, I’ll just put these down here for you.” The basajaun placed them in a little nook at the very edge of the tree-sheltered area, protected on one side by the rockface creating this area of the mountain, and on the other by a large boulder. He swooshed his hands, shepherding a pine cone and some leaves and pine needles in front of the bouquet to mask the colors, the objects moving without him actually touching them. Neat trick. There was more to him than just height, nose, and hair.

Austin stepped forward as I approached the large slab, palms up and out. The basajaun bristled again, but I shook my head at him.

“He doesn’t mean you any harm. He’s here to help protect me and our town, and Ivy House’s beautiful gardens. Neither of us would do anything to hurt your mountain.” I gritted my teeth as my palms neared the rockface. “Let’s hope this doesn’t burn.”

“Oh no, it does not burn. Tickles, mostly.” The basajaun continued to stand near the masked flowers.

“Our voices aren’t echoing through that cave right now, right?” I whispered, the situation catching up to me. Those mages could still be in there.

“No. You will not hear anything of the outside world once you are in the cave,” the basajaun answered, “and vice versa. It is magically sealed.”

“Why?” I asked, not raising my voice beyond the whisper.

“I do not know. I did not make it.”

There was no point in asking who had. If the creature knew, he’d spend the whole day talking about it, I was sure. We had to get going. My courage wasn’t an indefinite thing.

A tingle worked through my skin as I pushed my hand forward, but the sensation stopped at the point of contact and did not travel up my arm. I pushed them further in, my hands disappearing into the rock slab, and the tingle left my hands and continued up my arms. Further still, I felt a familiar heat at my back—Austin had changed into his human form.

“I’ll go in with you, Jess.” He stepped up beside me, putting his hands out.

“Baaa-kk our-ff baa-re.” Damarion’s wings rustled as he neared, and power curled around us, the alphas about to square off again at the worst possible time.

“Not now!” I flung my hand back, frustrated and annoyed and entirely too keyed up. A rock-solid sheet of air slammed into Damarion, sending him flying backward.

It didn’t stop, though. It crashed into the others and forced them back a couple of steps, pinning their arms so they couldn’t lift their hands to protect their faces or ward it off.

“Ooh, I felt that.” The hair on the basajaun’s face contorted into what was presumably a smile. “That might be a nice trick to confuse hikers with.”

“I think he has taken that hobby a little too far,” I murmured, my heart starting to beat faster. To Austin I said, “You don’t have to.” I paused. “Which is just something I’m supposed to say to be polite. I’m not going to turn you away.”

“We don’t know what will be on the other side of that magical barrier.” Austin’s shoulder bumped mine as he got into position. “There’s no way I’m turning away.”

“The mages, probably.” The basajaun leaned a shoulder against the rock and crossed its hairy arms over its chest. “They were not pleased that I killed one of their kind.”

“Wouldn’t they want to leave?” I asked, pulling my hands back quickly as everyone else pushed forward again.

“The mountain is my territory, not what lies beneath it. My duty is to guard the prisoner, and that is the only time I am below the mountain. I do not live there.”

“He denied them access to his territory,” Niamh said, “so they can’t go up the mountain. Nor can they go into town or seek shelter in one of the surrounding areas—Austin has guaranteed that. And they know better than to seek ye out at Ivy House. We haven’t been able to find the entrance to the cave, so they know this is their only sanctuary in these parts, so they do. Ye’ve got ’em cornered, girl—time to bag ’em up.”

“Have we met?” the basajaun asked Niamh.

“No. I would’ve remembered all the hair.”

I met Austin’s eyes and saw the call of battle burning within them. I’d seen that look before, right before we’d stormed Ivy House a few months back. This was it. It was time to eradicate the vermin.

My limbs started to shake. A past battle in which I’d observed more than fought, plus a few skirmishes, weren’t nearly enough to prepare me for rushing into the fray. I’d better get used to it, though. After these mages there’d be someone else, and someone else still, people coming after me until they were sure I could not be taken. Then the wining and dining would begin, and I’d be wary about poison and knives to the back.

“Why did I sign up for this?” I muttered.

“Because adventure keeps us young.” Niamh rubbed her hands together. “Bigfoot, what sort of size can we expect these tunnels to be? Can we fit in with our other forms, like?”

“That name is hurtful to those of my kind,” the basajaun said. “I don’t call you grumpy old woman.”

“Ah, sure, ye might as well. It’s true enough. What about the size?”

“The polar bear can fit. The spread wings of these ugly creatures will not.” He speared Damarion with a glare. “I will not be accompanying you—”

“Yeah, yeah, so ye said, we get it, quit goin’ on about it. Jessie, let’s go.” Niamh motioned me forward again. “Like a Band-Aid. Should’ve brought some of those weapons, but we’ll just berate Mr. Tom for that later.”

“I have weapons. Claws.” Mr. Tom hunched down, getting ready to change. “So do you—or did you forget how to change into your third form?”

“Ack.” Niamh’s face soured. “That one hurts to change into.”

“Losing your nerve?” Mr. Tom asked.

“Why not? Ye’ve already lost yer marbles.”

The sound of rocks rolling filled the little tree-enclosed area, the gargoyles who had shifted to human previously now changing back. Niamh stripped off her top, her body quickly morphing and reducing down into a small creature that looked like a cross between a goblin and a gremlin. With a hairless, bony head and huge eyes that sparkled like grayish gems, this form was literally what nightmares were made of. I gave those dolls a lot of heat, but now, seeing her, I could see why she’d never been afraid of them.

She opened her wide, gaping mouth to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, almost like a shark. Her bony hands ended in fierce claws, as did her webbed feet.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, knowing my face was screwed up in a grimace and unable to help it.

“It’s the puca’s third form, incredibly useful for small, tight places,” Austin said. “Horribly ugly and quite scary in a place like a cave. She can see in great detail in the dark in that form, and hide in little crevices or hang upside down like a bat. I think it’s also useful in water.” He gently wrapped his fingers around my upper arm. “This whole situation has been sprung on you. We can always come back once you’ve had time to fully recover.”

I shook my head, hardening my resolve. “They might come up with another plan by then. Given they haven’t left—”

“They might have left,” the basajaun interrupted. “I really could not say. They might be in there, or they might have left. They might be trespassing on my mountain, hoping I do not find them. They might be trespassing in town, hoping the polar bear—”

“Right, right, okay. I get it. We’ll act like they are in there, and be pleasantly surprised if they are not.” I patted myself, half thinking of changing forms like all the others. Like Austin had stepped back to do. But even though it was easy to change, and I’d had enough recovery time to fly again, I wasn’t used to fighting in that form. I didn’t have any muscle memory as a gargoyle. It would slow me down, and I was already too slow.

Gritting my teeth, choosing to stay as I was, I stepped forward to walk through the illusion.

30

Before I made it, Austin nudged me to the side and took my place.

“Dang it, Austin.” I followed him inside, Damarion at my back, his claws poking my shoulder.

I crossed the threshold. The second my head was through, the sights and sounds from the clearing were cut off—the raspy shake of pine trees, the shimmer of sycamore leaves, the call of birds, and the soft rustle of animals within the underbrush. Instead, a vast emptiness shrouded in darkness gave the space a hollow feeling, like we’d stepped into a vacuum and lost all of our senses.

A furry body brushed against my side, Austin moving, so I stepped closer, widening my eyes in a vain attempt to see through the pitch darkness.

Claw scraped stone, and I felt a brush of wing, the movement wafting air in the stagnant space. Damarion was on scene. He bumped me into Austin’s big, furry body, and I found myself trapped between the two of them.

“I wish I knew how to make light,” I whispered. I had no idea how well sound carried in here, but with just stone and air, it didn’t have much to deaden it.

Austin moved away, the act making barely a whisper of sound. His grunt-growl wasn’t so quiet. It sounded like he’d hit a wall. More wings rustled, the sound like a class of kindergarteners who had just been given construction paper.

“We need to do this quickly. They’ll hear us coming,” I whispered.

Scrabbling against the rock caught my ears, and then something grabbed my leg.