Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker #1)(49)

“Sure.” Nix stood. “And call us if you need anything, okay?”



“Ugh, I hate that.” I stumbled out of the Underpath into a small, dimly-lit pub.

Copper mugs hung from the ceiling, and a crackling fire warmed the wooden-walled space. Once again, patrons didn’t seem to notice us as we stepped out of the wall.

Roarke’s hand cupped my elbow to steady me, which snapped me out of my funk pretty dang quickly. I shivered, unable to help liking his proximity even though he might be the architect of my final demise.

Which would not happen.

“This way,” he murmured and led me from the pub.

Snow sparkled in the glow of the ancient-looking lamps as we stepped outside onto the cobblestone street. A quick glance behind showed that we’d arrived via a pub called the White Hart Inn.

When I turned back to the street, a black SUV had pulled up to the sidewalk, and a brown demon with small horns climbed out of the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t think Edinburgh was a supernatural city,” I said.

“It’s not.” Roarke took the keys with a quick thank you, then climbed into the driver’s side. I followed. “But the Grassmarket is. This neighborhood has been a supernatural haven for half a millennia. Humans avoid it because of a spell similar to the one on Magic’s Bend.”

I buckled the seatbelt and peered out the window, taking in the row of brightly lit pubs and the winding stone staircases that led up toward another street. If I ducked my head down really far, I could just catch a glimpse of the romantically lit castle on the hill above. Edinburgh Castle.

“If you have a network of demons waiting at your beck and call to deliver cars, why didn’t you just use one of them back in Cornwall? Why let Melly drive us?”

He frowned. “I thought it would make you more comfortable to have an outside person.”

“Uh.” Didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m really only in the business of intimidating the Kings of Hell.”

I glanced at him, surprised. Though I really shouldn’t have been. He could tear off heads with a flick of his wrist and punch his way through the ether. He clearly didn’t feel the need to exert his power in stupid ways, like controlling everything around him. Only weak men did that. Roarke was comfortable with the idea that he could handle his environment, and if he wanted to drag me back to the Underworld when this was all over, he was confident he could do that, too.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “You still have to go back to the Underworld when this is all over, but I don’t have to be a total jerk about it.”

To say that I had mixed feelings about this whole situation was an understatement. His courtesy with Melly gave me the weirdest warm fuzzies. But the idea that he’d drag me back to hell made my blood heat while my skin chilled.

Might as well get this show on the road. I pointed toward the castle. “We can go that way.”



I kept my head buried in the book about Guinevere and Arthur as Roarke navigated through Edinburgh and the countryside beyond. Occasionally, I poked my head up to direct him and caught sight of rolling mountains or running sheep.

At one point, my scalp itched. I reached up to scratch and found one of the tiny bumps that indicated horns were starting to form on my head.

A chill went through me as I reached into my pocket to retrieve one of Connor’s potions. I found only one.

Damn. That was the last of it. I was transitioning too quickly. We had to find this demon, or I was in trouble like I’d never known.

With trembling hands, I drank the potion as subtly as I could, jumping when I heard Roarke’s voice.

“Do you know what form this information is going to take?” Roarke navigated the lonely mountain road. Snow sparkled in the grass on either side. We’d turned onto a mountain path that led us into the lowland mountains outside of Edinburgh.

“No idea. I just asked my seeker sense to find information about the charm Merlin made for Guinevere. It could be anything. But I’ll know it when I see it.”

A few moments later, my dragon sense tugged hard.

I gasped. “Stop!”

Roarke pulled over on the side of the tiny road. We were in a valley between two rolling hills speckled with the first snowfall of the season. The sun was setting behind the hills, casting a golden glow over the frost-crusted grass.

“We’re near,” I said.

“There’s nothing here.”

To confirm his statement, a sheep bleated in the distance.

I grinned. “Sure there is. There’s history everywhere.”

We climbed out of the car. The frosty grass crunched underfoot, and the chill air froze my nose. I shivered and zipped my jacket, then adjusted my sheathed sword at my back.

“This way.” I set off away from the car, following the tug of my dragon sense toward the setting sun.

The rolling mountains around us were desolate and beautiful. When we came to a wide, rambling river crusted at the edges with ice, I stopped on the bank and analyzed my options. A path of wide, flat stones looked like they had potential.

I pointed to them. “We can cross there.”

“I could just give you a ride.”

My gaze snapped to his, and I swallowed hard. A ride? Like, in his arms. Yeah, my peace of mind could not handle that level of closeness.