Page 65 of Ancient Magic

“No, but they are vulnerable. If, however, my servants put out word that the temple has exploded and they’re searching for survivors, the traitor will assume we’re dead or missing. It will give us at least a few hours to figure out what’s going on.”

Skye slowly nodded. “Okay, I’ll go to New Orleans. But we can’t just wait for Lynx to find the sword. Or whatever it is he’s really seeking.” Her expression was grim. “We have to stop him before he gets his hands on it.”

Micha nodded. She didn’t have to tell him that the vision of a fiery future hadn’t changed. It’d probably become more likely since he’d allowed the bastard to escape with the strange crystal.

Frustration bubbled through him. “I’m going to have the helicopter drop me off at the spot we picked up the airboats. That’s the most logical place for him to return to shore. I’ll try to pick up his scent there.”

She sent him a worried glance. “It’s almost dawn.”

“Then I have to catch him quickly. I’m not going to risk losing his trail.”

She sent him a strange glance. “Actually, I don’t think you have to worry about him going too far.”

Micha eyed her in confusion. “A new vision?”

She shook her head. “A curse.”

“What do you mean a curse?” Her words did nothing to clear up his confusion. “Lynx was cursed?”

“He is now,” she said with a shrug. As if she went around cursing people on a regular basis. And maybe she did. He’d always heard it was Peri Sanguis who was in charge of the hexing and cursing side of the business, but that didn’t mean Skye wasn’t involved. “I detonated it when he grabbed me on the beach.”

Micha had gone endless centuries without being blindsided. He was a male who was meticulous in planning his existence precisely because he didn’t like being caught off guard.

Since traveling to New York City, there had been one shock after another. Most of them nasty. His gaze swept over Skye’s delicate face. And some earth-shattering.

His life would have been far more peaceful if he’d ignored the command from Sinjon, he wryly acknowledged. And not just because he’d been swept up in a brewing demon war. Even if he did manage to halt Lynx and his mysterious partner in crime and return to his lair, he suspected Skye Claremont was going to continue to disrupt his life for a very long time.

At least...he hoped she was around to disrupt it. The possibility of spending the next thousand years without her was too awful to contemplate.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what’s going to happen to him,” he murmured. “According to my research there are mages who can make body parts fall off for the right price.”

“At the Witch’s Brew we don’t usually contract for body parts to actually fall off.” She pursed her lips as if considering the unfortunate recipients of the powerful magic. “But you might wish they would.”

“And Lynx?”

“Nothing awful.” There was a hint of regret, no doubt wishing she’d caused several body parts to dissolve. “A simple sleeping spell.”

The air buffeted them as the helicopter lightly settled on the beach. Micha stepped closer, speaking directly in her ear as the thumping sound of the blades created a deafening roar.

“How long will it last?” he asked.

“It’s hard to say,” she admitted. “When I got the call they were holding Clarissa hostage, I didn’t have time to prep my charms, so I grabbed the emergency spells that Peri left for me. Her magic is always off the charts, so I would usually estimate that he’d be out for days.” She glanced toward the shoreline where the airboats had landed. “But Lynx is more powerful than most fairies. He might be able to fight through the spell a lot quicker.”

“Twenty-four hours?” he suggested.

She wrinkled her nose. “Give or take a few hours.”

“Okay.” For the first time since he’d awakened to sense Lynx sneaking into his private rooms, Micha didn’t feel as if he was two steps behind. Just maybe he could get ahead of events before they bit him on the ass. “Then I can send my guards to try to discover where he’s sleeping while I go to New Orleans with you.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked as he grasped her upper arm and urged her toward the waiting chopper.

“Lynx can’t search for the sword if he’s unconscious, which gives me time to do some research.” His lips twisted as he bent low to avoid the blades that continued to spin. “I prefer not to repeat the same mistake.”

“What mistake?”

“Accepting myth and legend as truth.” Self-disgust jolted through him at the memory of watching the sword he’d wasted centuries protecting being revealed to be nothing more than a tarnished bit of steel. “I want to know exactly what crystal Lynx took from the sword, who created it, and what it does.”

“He said it was a compass,” she reminded him as they climbed into the back seats.

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