Candace Sams - Gryphons Quest

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Gryphon's Quest
By Candace Sams
One
Gryphon O'Connor watched the Nymphs stroll by and enter the woods. They were the only ones
daring enough to get so close, but if their sexual appetites weren't recently satisfied, even he'd seem
approachable. He continued his ritual bathing and knew they watched. He could hear their incessant
giggling from the shrubs. What difference did it make if they chose to ogle him? They were almost as
nude as he. Their race loved nothing more than to expose themselves to anyone in the Order. Many a
man whose eyes wandered in their direction had to answer to a jealous mate when he arrived home. But
Gryph would never have that particular problem to worry about. There would never be a mate waiting
for him. Even the damned Ogres had mates, and they were as lacking in looks as they were brains. Being
one of a kind might not have been so bad except he'd had no say in the matter at all. He shook his head
and continued to wash. There was no point rehashing that particular subject. His parents' mistake
couldn't be undone.
He glanced toward his black cape and the message secreted within its folds. It had only arrived at his
home in the abbey ruins an hour ago. He wondered why the Sorceress' latest summons contained the
unusual words, ' Come without delay... no time for explanation.' Her instructions usually gave him dates,
times and places for his next assignment, but she had never used language indicating such urgency. Every
instinct told him he should have probably left already, but the Sorceress could damned well wait. Any
mission she had in mind required preparing his body and spirit and that preparation could only be
accomplished by cleansing at leisure in an enchanted pool. Besides, what was she going to do if he didn't
jump at her command as he'd always done? Turn him into a creature everyone in the Order feared? Well,
it was too bloody late for that. The way he saw it, anything she could do to him would only bring a
release from thirty-three years of being a freak. Even in a world where outsiders would deem all
inhabitants of the Order as unbearable monsters, he would be labeled the most monstrous of all.
He swam to the opposite side of the pool, reached for his leather crane bag and began to search within
its recesses. A large measure of whiskey usually took the edge off his depressive feelings. Let the old
woman wait. He'd done everything she'd ever asked of him, and she still couldn't manage with all her
persuasive powers to have him accepted as an equal. He was tired of helping her settle problems within
the Order, only to be shunned for having done so. If no one else gave a bloody rat's ass, why should he?
After taking a long drink from the bottle, he reached back into the bag for some food. His hand glanced
against a heavy object, and he drew it forward.
Gryphon closed his hand tightly around the quartz crystal and felt its cold edges bite into his palm. Lore
had given it to him for luck. He suddenly felt a small measure of shame at having forgotten his friend.
Even as a child, the Fairy had sided with him and attempted to befriend Gryphon as best he could. No
sooner would the two of them begin to play than Lore's parents would quickly call their son away and
chide him for getting too close to The O 'Connor. It was on one rare occasion when Lore's parents
weren't present that Lore had given him the crystal. Since then, Gryph kept the stone close and carried it
with him almost everywhere. It was a constant reminder that one person in the entire Order wasn't afraid
of him. Now, these many years later, Lore was leader of his people. Gryph's responsibilities kept him
from seeing the man as much as he'd like, but the Fairy Leader had done more to try to gain his
childhood friend's acceptance than the Sorceress ever had. Still, most of the Fairies had minds of their
own. The most Lore had been able to achieve was the lessening of tensions when Gryph approached
their territory. For that he was grateful, and his feelings of gratitude intensified his guilt. The protection he
provided the Order helped Lore and the other Fairies every bit as much as it did the Druids, Elves and
the others who disliked him. He just wished they could get over his ability to shape shift into something
unusual and let him be.
"I didn't ask for this," he mumbled.
More giggling from the trees and bushes alerted Gryph to the fact that the Nymphs were nearby and
still watching him.
"What didn't you ask for, creature?" one voice asked.
"I was speaking to myself, Nymph. Go away!" Gryphon took another long drink of whiskey, angry
he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. Angrier still that he was, to them, a creature. Not just another member of
the Order.
"Do you want some company?" the disembodied voice questioned.
"Go away," Gryph repeated, emphasizing the words so she'd understand he didn't want them near.
Gryphon watched as one black-haired Nymph crawled toward him from her hiding space. Her full
breasts swung from beneath a thin white veil of fabric. This, in turn, was twisted about her slim, blue body
as if she'd been writhing in the nearby ferns. Even from several feet away, he could tell he wasn't the only
one in the sacred woods to have been drinking. Maybe that was the reason the little chit had the nerve to
come near him. The smell of alcohol clung to her like gum to the bottom of a shoe. It wasn't a very
flattering come-on when a damned woman had to drink herself into a near stupor just to approach him.
"What part of go away did you not understand?" Gryphon snapped at the approaching figure.
"Don't be so abrupt with me, O'Connor. I'm only offering a little...companionship."
"You're drunk."
She laughed and fell forward. Her outstretched hands reached for him. "I know. I have this wager with
my sisters."
"Wager?" Gryph snorted.
"They want to know if you're as well endowed as the other Druids we've known. I'm betting you are. I
mean...a creature like you must be well-favored, so to speak. Everyone says you're huge when you shift.
We can see you when you fly, but can never get close enough to really get a good look at your bottom
half. We're just waiting for you to leave the pool so we can see."
Angrier than he could remember being in a long time, Gryphon pulled the woman forward and into the
water with him. Her shrieks of laughter did little to calm his rage. "Go back to where you came from and
tell your little bitch sisters to leave me alone. I don't have to take this from you. ANY OF YOU!"
He pushed her away and reached for his clothing. The woman's laughter and that of the others rang in
his ears. Gryphon grabbed his belongings as he hefted his weight from the water. This was the last, the
final outrage he was going to put up with. He should have just taken the girl right then and there, but
something in him couldn't sink so low as to have sex with a woman who didn't know what she was doing.
"I win. He's marvelous," one of the Nymphs observed as she caught site of Gryphon's exposed body.
Her sisters joined her in a round of bawdy whoops and whistles.
"Bloody damned Nymphs," he muttered as he stumbled away while pulling his clothing on.
To cool his anger, Gryph took the longest route through the ancient forest, or Shire, as it was known to
the Order. Doing so cost him more time, but he found himself wanting to see the Goblin Meadow. It was
here that his heart always found a little peace. Glancing up at the sky, he knew it was about time for the
children to be allowed out to play, and he dearly wanted to watch. His warrior's soul found a calming
influence in their innocent antics.
He waited by a nearby tree until their laughter reached him. In spite of his anger with the Nymphs, a
smile drifted across his face. Tiny forms approached as they danced and cavorted with Pixies. Some of
the Fairy children had their wings out and they glittered like jeweled gauze. In the deepest part of him,
Gryph desperately wanted a child of his own. But he'd long since resigned himself to the fact that what he
wanted just didn't matter. So, he assuaged his longings by watching the children of others.
A little girl ran straight toward the tree where he waited. She had a tiny fistful of flowers and laughed as
if there were no problems on Earth too terrible or demanding. Her life was one beautiful adventure.
Gryph's tough heart reached out to her, wishing he could have been that carefree in his youth.
Sensing the presence of another, the girl stopped and looked into the edge of the woods. She walked
straight toward Gryphon and stopped when her eyes made out his form.
"Hello," she smiled up at him.
There seemed to be no fear in her at all.
"Hello, little one." He stooped down so he could speak to her on an even level.
"I got some pretty flowers. Want some?" She handed part of the bouquet of wild trillium to him.
Gryph laughed and brought his hand forward to take the small offering. He abruptly stood when a loud
voice rang out.
"Lily, get over here this instant!" A tall woman ran forward and pulled the little girl to her. She glared at
him and walked away with the child, scolding her for getting too close to the 'gryphon. '
He stepped back as though he'd been slapped. There was no way, in this life or any other, he'd harm a
child. That the toddlers were being taught to stay away from him hurt far worse than anything the
Nymphs could have possibly said or done. It wasn't as though he was a stranger to these people. He
swiftly turned so that those adults who were entering the meadow couldn't see the tears in his eyes. In
that instant, he hated them all.
Gryphon strode away without acknowledging a soul. Had he looked back, he would have seen Lily
waving at him and ignoring the condemning remarks made by her mother. After all, The O 'Connor had
been there before and hadn't ever hurt anyone. And Lore, the Fairy Leader, had said the big man was
nice. That he was safe. Though Gryphon didn't see her, Lily just kept waving and vowed to pick some
flowers for him on some other night. He didn't look like someone who would ever
hurt her. And if Lore said the gryphon was okay, then he was okay.
***
"You know I wouldn't completely ignore a summons from the Sorceress." But the thought had
occurred to him. Gryphon shook his long hair back over his shoulder as he spoke.
"I know, Gryph." Gwyneth O'Connor sighed. "But you're late, and there's a dangerous situation
evolving. She'll be terribly angry with you."
"So...she'll be miffed. She'll get over it. It's my job to be here. I'm here."
From the backseat of the large luxury car, Gryphon O'Connor watched the guilt-ridden glances
exchanged between his two parents. Thirty-three years before, James and Gwyneth O'Connor had
meddled with powers that should have been left alone. Gryph's condition, as he referred to his shape
shifting ability, was the result of that meddling.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be all right. Shayla will give me the information. I'll handle the problem and
be back before you know it." Gryph quickly changed the subject to spare his parents' feelings. "The flight
from the English countryside was long. I'd have gone the entire distance, but there was no sense taking
the risk of being seen during the daylight hours. And besides, I wanted to see my two favorite people
before meeting with Shayla tonight. How have things been these past weeks?"
"Well enough, Son," James said over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the winding and narrow Irish
road. "Your mother and I have had a wonderful time in France. There are many of our kind still
practicing there, you know."
Gryph smiled patiently at the two people he loved more than anything in the world. He stretched his
six-foot-four inch frame as far as the backseat area would allow and listened to his parents' latest travel
exploits. The flight from England to Ireland had been more tiring than he wanted his parents to know. He
had to practice great care when he traveled, avoiding overly populated areas and the eyes of those who
constantly looked toward the heavens. As a result, covering distances sometimes took longer than
expected and could be strenuous.
He'd had to avoid several British army helicopters on routine maneuvers the night before, and keeping
his distance had added miles to his trip. The human world wasn't ready for him and his highly unusual
alter ego. He knew his presence, should it ever be detected, wouldn't be explainable or tolerated.
He listened to his parents converse. That they loved him had never been questioned. It was the extent
of that love which had brought him to his current, painful circumstance. Blaming them was unthinkable.
They had no knowledge of the responsibilities the Sorceress heaped upon him. He rarely shared the
nature of his dealings with anyone and went out of his way to keep Gwyneth and James O'Connor from
knowing. He let them think he simply helped out when called upon. They needn't know any more. It
would crush them to learn Shayla Gallagher had him doing every dirty little deed she didn't feel like
handling. He tried hard while in his parents' presence not to make much of the Sorceress' assignments or
his part in enforcing rules within the Order. For their part, he felt sure they tried to pretend he wasn't such
an outcast. It was a game they all played. He pretended not to be hurt by what others in the Order said.
His parents pretended the situation wasn't all that serious. That their son was just like any other Druid.
For them, Gryph's latest residence, a dilapidated English abbey, was just a retreat their son had chosen
as a resting place. For Gryphon, it was one of the only places left where he didn't feel like such an
outcast. Like someone who was so different. There, he had been left alone to read and decipher ancient
tomes in an effort to learn more about his own history. No one had asked many questions of him. There
were outsiders who lived nearby, but they rarely ventured into that part of the forest.
"Son, are you listening?" James looked through the rearview mirror at Gryph, repeating himself to be
heard.
"Sorry, Father. I was woolgathering. A bad habit of mine, I'm afraid." Gryph smiled at his father.
"I was asking if you thought the full moon tonight might make whatever Shayla has in mind more
conspicuous." James spoke, enunciating each word to make sure Gryph was paying attention.
"I doubt it. Shayla hasn't practiced in anonymity all these years without learning how to be crafty,"
Gryph responded as he watched the passing scenery. He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and
hoped he succeeded.
"But we'll be meeting with her at the ancient stone circle on the hill." Gwyneth turned in the front seat to
see Gryph better. "Anyone will be able to see what we're doing under the light of the full moon."
"I promise you, Mother, Shayla knows what she's doing."
The old crone always has, he thought to himself.
***
Gryph stood in pretended reverent silence as Shayla
Gallagher, Sorceress of the Ancients, spoke the words which preceded the meeting. His parents wore
the long white robes of their Druid ancestors while he was dressed in a similar robe of brown. Shayla
lifted a crystal to the night sky with one hand and threw herbs into a small fire at her feet with the other.
The evening breeze lifted the older woman's long, silver hair from her shoulders. While still beautiful, she
looked every bit the wizened, prophetic conjuror she wanted others to revere. But Gryph was past the
point of respecting her.
Her wiles had worked on him as a boy, and the small tasks she'd given him seemed important yet
simple. The tasks and their importance had grown, however. And he wasn't a boy to be tricked any
longer. He knew the older woman for what
she was, a user.
Gryph pulled his hood up as his long dark hair began to drift about his own shoulders. In customary
fashion, he had braided long strands of it next to his face. Celtic symbols were painted on his forehead
and cheekbones in a shade of garish, blue woad as ceremony demanded. They matched the Celtic knots
which had been tattooed at childhood on his biceps and inner thighs, marks of his position as a warrior.
Finally, Shayla turned to Gryph with a smile on her face. He walked forward, and more for the benefit
of his parents, kissed her outstretched hands. She gave him a disparaging look, and he knew she wasn't
fooled.
"Gryphon, I was told you received my message two days ago. I trust you have a plausible excuse for
your delay?"
"There's no excuse except I simply couldn't get here any faster." He just wanted her to get on with it.
"I couldn't have made myself more clear. Circumstances here are very serious," she replied with
condemnation.
"Sorry, Shayla. I wasn't able to file a flight plan with the local authorities. I got here as soon as I safely
could."
"That had better not be sarcasm, young man. I don't tolerate it well," she warned.
Gwyneth placed a hand on Gryph's arm. "Please, Gryphon, don't make her angrier. This isn't the time."
Gryph heaved a sigh, glanced at his father's reproachful countenance and decided his exhibition of
disrespect could wait until another time. A time when he and Shayla were alone, and he didn't have to
guard his words for his parents' sake. "Just tell me what you want me to do, Sorceress."
She raised her eyebrows imperiously and shot Gryphon a look that would have sent less bold men into
hiding. For now, their personal battle could wait. She took a deep breath to quell her anger, then
proceeded.
"Several weeks ago, friends from the North sent word that an ancient burial mound had been
desecrated."
"You want me to find out who did it?" Gryph asked.
"We know who it was. What we didn't know, until quite recently, is what was taken." She walked
toward the largest of the stones in the circle. "Along with ancient jewelry and weapons, three stones were
taken. While it was criminal enough that the personal items were stolen, the stones are the most serious of
the missing objects."
Gryph's eyes narrowed. "Why? What's their meaning?"
"The stones are old. They are so ancient, at one time these stones were referred to as having Ogham
markings. They date to the time before the Romans came. They were buried with the remains of an
ancient Celtic family who were sworn to protect them at all costs. Their power is unspeakable. Should
they fall into the wrong hands and their original use be discovered, horrors will walk the Earth." She
paced back and forth in front of the fire. "Unless we undo what's been done, the entire Order is in
danger."
Gryph felt his skin grow cold. For the first time in his life, he saw Shayla show signs of fear. He'd never
seen her in a state of agitation. She never paced, never clutched at the crystal she used to call forth her
spirit guides, and he'd never ever heard her voice shake as it was now. This wasn't the normal
assignment. Now he had second thoughts about delaying his response to the Sorceress' summons.
Behind him, he heard his parents' gasps.
"Shayla, what were these stones?" James asked as he walked forward and stood beside Gryph.
"Marks of the oldest of our Druid kind were chiseled into them," Shayla answered. "These were the
marks of making, of shape shifting."
"By all that's sacred. No!" James whispered. "The Rune Stones of the Tuatha De Danann."
Gwyneth grasped her husband's hand in fear, the blood pumping through her veins visible in her flushed
features.
Seeing his parents' response, Gryph looked at Shayla. "Explain," he demanded. "I know of the old
ways and have studied ritual objects, but I've never heard of these stones."
"That isn't surprising, as they were kept very secret. The name your father has given them is what they
are now called. Their magic may have been derived from wisdom within ancient Ogham writings. The
Tuatha used these writings to embed powers into the rune stones. Anyone who deciphers the stones for
honest intent will be able to move about in a form reflecting their true soul. However, those seeking to use
the stones for evil intent will take on the form of something monstrous," Shayla told him. "Your job,
Gryphon, is to retrieve the stones before that can happen. Only you, with your special power, can bring
back the stones. They must be hidden away, once and for all, where no human can find them. No single
being was meant to have that kind of power."
And yet, that burden has been inflicted upon me, Gryph thought, feeling old bitterness in his heart. His
powers were something that, given the choice, he'd never have accepted.
As if she knew his thoughts, Shayla looked him straight in the eyes. "Your soul, however embittered it
may be, is clean and unfettered, Gryphon O'Connor. Your ability to shape shift came from the mistake
your parents made with a minor enchantment. Can you imagine that power being magnified one-hundred
fold and being used by someone whose nature is corrupt?"
"The stones are really that powerful?" Gryph asked, turning to look into the distance, his eyes
attempting to pierce the darkness.
"Yes, and they must be returned here as soon as possible," Shayla warned.
"You said you knew who took them?"
"Yes, Gryphon, and I know where you should begin looking. But be warned. It won't be easy to
retrieve them. You may have to break the outsider's law in order to do so Even so, since this task is
more than I've ever asked of you, I'll make sure the reward for recovering the objects is great."
"I want no reward. Just a promise, Shayla. Since I'm fairly sure you know what I want, and since I feel
reasonably sure you'll grant it, I'll find the stones and bring them back." In return, he wanted no more
asked of him. That was the only request he'd make. "Where do I have to go?"
Gwyneth ran forward. "He's my only son, Shayla. The power he might face is too great to confront
alone. This must be the most dangerous thing you've ever asked of him."
"Then you and James may follow him. While you're Druids and not warrior class, he'll need some sort
of backup. If he should fail, then the task will become yours to complete."
"Absolutely not." Gryphon swiped his hand in immediate dismissal of this new turn of events. "I refuse
to have them responsible for an assignment meant for me. You said it yourself, they're not warriors, I am"
"Then I suggest you start acting like one," Shayla proclaimed in a loud voice.
"If this is so critical, what will you be doing?" Gryphon placed his hands on his hips and looked down at
the older woman. "Shouldn't the person with the most power be present to help bring back the stones?"
"Gryphon\ I didn't raise my son to be so disrespectful to the Sorceress of the Ancients." James placed
a hand on his son's forearm and forced him to turn and look at him.
"It's all right, James," the Sorceress placated. "Your son should know that if his and your attempts to
bring back the stones are unsuccessful, I'll be doing what I can here to save the rest of the Order."
Gryph turned away from his father to look at her. The woman wasn't exaggerating. There was a
solemnity in her voice, a look of urgency on her face. "I'll bring the bloody things back."
"You'd better, or the rest of the world will learn of us. And while you take exception to me and my
methods, Gryphon, surely the others shouldn't be endangered because of our differences. Surely you
don't blame everyone for the way some treat you?"
Gryphon glanced at his parents, unwilling to have the Sorceress continue the conversation while they
were within earshot. He didn't want his parents to feel guilty over the way others behaved toward him.
What the O'Connors had done couldn't be altered. He lowered his voice. "I've promised to do as you've
asked. We'll talk about our differences, and the way anyone else behaves, later."
Undaunted, the Sorceress continued, "Surely the children aren't to blame for how you and the others
feel toward one another? You don't want harm coming to them, do you?"
"Of course not," Gryphon snapped back. The woman knew his weakest point and wasn't above
exploiting it. "I've told you I'll go. What else do you want?"
"Damn you, Gryphon. I want your heart in the task. It could mean the difference between success and
failure." She looked at Gryphon, then James and Gwyneth. "You all play this silly little charade where
Gryphon pretends no one cares what he is. I can't make people like or accept you, Gryphon. Only you
can do that. And I can't keep your parents from feeling guilt. Only they can deal with those feelings. What
I can do is protect the Order. And this I'll do at all costs. Our children have the right to grow up in safety.
To that end I've given you a task to perform. It'll take everything you have to pull this off. Without your
full cooperation and willingness...well, there's nothing left to do but see to the safety of the others. But try
to think of them, Gryph. While some have shunned you, others have tried to help. You won't see it
because you're so wrapped up in self pity. I could almost hate you except I haven't time for the
distraction. Alternate plans need to be made in case you fail. In your current state, I can easily see that
happening."
Gryphon watched her stalk off. Anger not withstanding, the Sorceress had never spoken to him so
bluntly. Part of him wanted to run after her as he had when he was a boy and she'd been displeased with
some small thing he'd neglected. He wanted her to care about him. Not just what he could do for her. He
felt empty, then shame crept in. He had to lay his personal problems aside and do his best. While he
wasn't exactly as popular as he might have liked, he had no business endangering anyone because of his
attitude. Especially since the Sorceress seemed so certain only he could carry out this assignment.
He sighed and turned to his parents. Gwyneth's eyes shimmered with tears. James' head was bowed as
if he were deep in thought.
"I have to gather some things for the trip. Ask the Sorceress if she'll meet me back here in one hour."
His head went up. "I won't let anyone down. But I'll need to know everything. Where to go, what she
wants done. Tell her...just tell her I'll do it only for the children. She owes me nothing." He walked away
and hoped the message would be taken as an apology for his behavior. If he couldn't come out and say
it, he'd let his actions speak for him.
***
Two hours later, Shayla, James and Gwyneth looked into the night sky. They saw the clear, menacing
outline of an ancient being against the pale reflection of the moon. They heard the unearthly cry of a beast
of legend. He was the only one of his kind. Gwyneth turned to her husband and buried her head into his
chest. James held her as she cried. Because of their foolishness, their only son would be forever alone.
TWO
"Jeez, Heather, you work far too hard." Niall Alexander complained to the young woman walking
slowly beside him. "We're hardly ever alone anymore."
Heather sighed in frustration. His attention was beginning to interfere with her work. "I know, Niall. But
if I'm ever going to be allowed to do my own research, the way you and Professor McPherson are, then
I have to prove I'm worth the grant money." She brushed a falling leaf from her hair. "Besides, I love
what I do."
"That's your father's influence. There wasn't a better archeologist in the field of Celtic studies than he
was. Still, I want more time with you," he remarked, his posture slumping as it often did when she denied
him something. Her gracefully slim, five-foot-six inch frame made other men stare when she walked by
and her clear, silver-blue gaze even had the old security guard straightening his tie. Niall made it known
she was having a relationship with him, and that it was strictly hands off where she was concerned.
Heather turned to look up into Niall's green eyes. "If you're so worried about having more time
together, why don't you give up some of your research?"
When Niall ran a slender hand through his blond hair and looked at her like she was crazy, Heather
knew that, like always, she would be doing most of the giving in their relationship. Niall wasn't at all
receptive to giving up any part of his career in acquisitions to have more time with her. No. The guy
definitely wasn't the knight-in-shining-armor type she'd always wanted to find. No hero material there.
But maybe she was judging him too hard. Nobody could ever come up to the image of the hero her
imagination conjured.
"What about this weekend? There's a big party at the Professor's house for some of the more
prestigious donors. I just received my invitation in the mail. You will be coming with me, won't you?" he
pleaded.
"I don't know, Niall. I want to get a look at those new artifacts sent in from Ireland and Scotland. I'm
lucky Dr. McPherson is letting me have the first shot at deciphering some of the find."
Niall wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her from walking across the parking lot to her car.
"You're much too beautiful to have your head buried in ancient history all weekend. Come on, babe, go
to the party with me."
"We'll see," Heather sighed with resignation. Niall would never take her love for her work seriously. It
was that way with most of the men who worked with her. Not many of them looked beyond what they
saw on the outside. She suspected that had she been born plain none of them would even notice her at
all. Niall was right about one thing. Her love for the antiquities she studied was deeply instilled by her
father's work. She'd grown up around Celtic objects. Not the least important of which was her Irish
mother. She smiled to herself as fond memories invaded her thoughts. The stories the woman told her
gave her a deep sense of belonging when she handled particular artifacts. It was like stepping into another
world of magic, myth and mystery. Something she deeply wanted others to feel.
"That's my girl. I'll call later about when I'll pick you up." Niall kissed her soundly then turned and
walked away.
Heather mentally shook herself back into the present. She hadn't been listening to a word Niall had
said. Sometimes she really just wished he would shut-up all together. He was a brilliant technician where
artifacts were concerned, but her thrill at having a man with his academic reputation pay her attention was
wearing thin. Occasionally, however, he'd turn on his brain, act like a regular co-worker and allow her
some leeway in dealing with the categorizing of the Professor's finds. Niall could be exasperating and
remarkably astute all within the space of a few minutes. So...he wasn't Mr. Perfect. Was there any man
who was? At least he loved the artifacts as much as she.
From her mother's stories, she'd conjured an image of a hero like Culchulainn, The Hound of Culann,
warrior of Ulster. She'd dreamed, in her romantic school-girl days, of meeting a man with that kind of
magnetism. That kind of machismo. She laughed to herself. Being a little older and wiser had definitely
dulled that particular image. There were no heroes. Just regular men with regular needs and flaws. Even
some of her beloved artifacts sometimes had chips. That didn't make them less valued. Just more
realistic.
"Hi, Ned." She waved when she saw the museum's nighttime security guard approach. The older man
shuffled slowly down the steps toward her. His balding head was covered with a baseball cap and had
the word Security inscribed on it in gold letters. His body was stooped, and the hand he offered to her
was wrinkled and gnarled with age.
"Evening, Miss Green. Was that your young man?" Ned squinted his eyes when he got near the lights
from the parking lot.
"That was Niall," Heather responded, reluctant to have him or anyone else refer to Niall as her "young
man."
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, I'm kind of glad he's gone."
"Why is that?" she asked in surprise.
摘要：

Gryphon'sQuestByCandaceSams   One   GryphonO'ConnorwatchedtheNymphsstrollbyandenterthewoods.Theyweretheonlyonesdaringenoughtogetsoclose,butiftheirsexualappetitesweren'trecentlysatisfied,evenhe'dseemapproachable.Hecontinuedhisritualbathingandknewtheywatched.Hecouldheartheirincessantgigglingfromtheshr...

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