Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker #1)(43)

The memory of the demon yanking the golden pendant off the neck of the skeleton flashed in my mind.

“You didn’t see a golden charm or necklace in that pit at Glastonbury, did you?” I asked.

“No. There was nothing there other than the sarcophagus.”

“Then that’s what the demon was after. Before he was taken away, he grabbed a necklace off the skeleton.”

“But you can’t sense him.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t find him other ways.” I picked up my pizza, which was now cold, and chowed down as my mind raced. I replayed the scene in the crypt. Finally, something stood out. “Who do you think Gwenhwyfar was?”

“Was that the name on the sarcophagus?”

“Yeah.”

Roarke pulled a sleek cell phone out of his pocket, fiddled with it for a moment, then looked up. “Nothing on Google.”

A man after my own heart. “We can go ask Dr. Garriso tomorrow. He’s a historian at the Museum for Magical History. He knows just about everything, and if he doesn’t, he’s got a book that will have the answer.”

I might have some of this info in the books in my trove, but I didn’t even know how to start searching for the name Gwenhwyfar. I needed a card catalogue in my library, or something. Between the demon hunting and all the rest, my life was too busy to properly curate my collection. I knew where some things were, like demon books, but obscure history was more difficult to find.

“So we’re changing tactics,” Roarke said. “Using books to find the demon.”

I shrugged. “Technically, I’ve been using books since the beginning. Most historical mysteries like this can be solved with books.”

Roarke nodded. “Fair enough. It’s the best we’ve got.”





Chapter Ten





I finished eating as quickly as I could, then stood. Just that little motion made my muscles ache and my head spin.

“You okay?” Roarke asked.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, just recovering. A good night’s sleep will do it. Thanks for getting the healer, by the way.”

“Not a problem.”

“Well, I’m lucky.”

Those wounds could have killed me. Lofta’s magic was the only thing that had stood between me and a quick return to the Underworld. What would have happened at that point was anyone’s guess. And frankly, I didn’t want to know.

“I’m going to call Dr. Garriso and set up a meeting for tomorrow morning. Once we know what Gwenhwyfar is, we’ll find the demon.” I hoped.

Roarke nodded.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment before grabbing my plate and putting it in the sink, then hurried from the room. It didn’t take me long to reach my bedroom, though I wanted to poke around his place more. I resisted and felt like a saint for doing so.

A quick scan of the bedroom revealed my phone plugged into the wall near the bed. Roarke’s thoughtfulness made me grin. I hurried to it and called Dr. Garriso, arranging to meet him at eight. I hung up and put the phone back on the bedside table, then looked at the bed.

I was exhausted and achy, but restlessness stole through my muscles. The sound of rushing water outside the windows caught my ears. There’d been a balcony off the hallway, I recalled. I wanted to see the river. And maybe I could even see the portal from here. It was fixed, right?

Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed my jacket from the duffle bag and headed out. By the time I made it outside to the balcony, the moon had risen high in the sky. I made my way across the wide expanse of wooden deck and leaned on the railing.

The river rushed below, glittering in the light of the full moon. Something rustled in the bushes across the water, and I stiffened. When a deer poked its head out from behind a bush, my muscles relaxed. Normally I could hold my own in a fight, but my injuries were slowing me down. I didn’t like being in this weakened state.

But nothing was going to get me while I was at the house belonging to the Warden of the Underworld. Not only was his title scary as hell—pun intended—I’d seen him in a fight. No one would mess with him on his own territory.

When the door opened behind me, I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Can’t sleep?” Roarke asked from behind me.

I turned. He was wearing the same clothes he had been, but this time, he held my sword in his hand. My palm itched to yank it from him.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked.

“I thought you should have it back.” His gaze was grave. “I’m sorry I took it from you. If you’d had your own weapon, you might have stood a better chance against the Ubilaz demon.”

An image of the relief and happiness on his face when I’d woken from my wound-induced slumber flashed in front of my vision.

“Thanks.” I reached out for it, and he handed it over. My hand brushed against his and sent my heart rocketing through my chest.

His gaze lingered on mine—briefly—before he looked away.

I tried to focus on the smooth, familiar grip of my sword instead of on the memory of his touch. In truth, the feel of my sword made my heart swell.

Roarke joined me at the railing, leaning his elbows against it and looking down into the water below.

“That’s the blade you use when you hunt demons, then?” he asked.