Page 58 of Ancient Magic

The weapon looked like something out of a fable. It was big with a shiny blade. At least what she could see of the blade was shiny. The rest was hidden by the marble. The only thing unusual was the large chunk of red glass that was inlaid in the pommel and the weird aura that surrounded it.

It wasn’t the aura of a demon. It was more like the blurred shadow around a mirage. As if it was an illusion, not a real sword.

Skye inched to the side, moving until she was standing next to the grim-faced vampire.

“What is this place?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She didn’t want to attract the attention of Lynx, who was slowly circling the sword.

Micha glanced toward her, his expression impossible to read. “This was the temple created by the mage. It’s a monument to the demon she loved.”

Skye scrunched her nose. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten the details of the ill-fated love story, but she was suddenly certain that there were a few important details missing.

“You’re sure?” she pressed.

“That’s the legend the demons have passed through the generations.” He turned until he was facing her. “Why?”

“I don’t know what hexed the sword or built this temple, but it wasn’t a mage.”

Micha flicked a glance toward Lynx, who was slowly reaching toward the sword, his expression triumphant.

“At last,” the fairy breathed.

“Wait, Master!” Yugan abruptly pleaded, rushing toward Lynx. “Don’t touch it. This could be a trick. Allow me to try first.”

“Stop,” Lynx snarled, halting his servant before he could interfere. “This is my duty. You wait outside.”

Yugan’s face twisted with genuine fear. “But—”

“Now.”

The warrior battled against his urge to protect his master and the compulsion to obey his command. At last his desire to please Lynx overcame his need to shield him from danger. He whirled around, stomping out of the temple.

“Arrogant ass,” Skye muttered.

Lynx sent her an amused glance, his tension vanishing as he allowed his fingers to curl around the hilt of the sword. He clearly wasn’t worried about the hex.

“You’re right, seer,” he drawled.

“About what?”

“I heard your whispered disbelief that the poor mage and her tragic lover created this temple.” The fairy cast a disdainful glance toward the tapestries. “The cheesy story is nothing more than a romantic fantasy conjured by demons to hide the truth.”

An icy chill inched down Skye’s spine. Not a premonition. Not even a reaction to Micha’s burst of anger that was dropping the temperature. It was fear.

“The truth of what?”

“Of this place. And this...” With a dramatic jerk, Lynx pulled the sword out of the marble.

Only he didn’t pull it out. The blade remained stuck as the hilt popped off, still clutched in Lynx’s fingers.

“You broke it,” Skye muttered in confusion.

Next to her, Micha made a sound of disgust. “It’s a fake.”

“Of course it’s a fake.” Lynx laughed as he strolled toward them. “Despite overwhelming vampire opinion, demons aren’t stupid.” He paused, as if considering his words. “Well, let’s say not all of us. There is a real sword called the Tempest. And it does everything that has been promised. Not only allowing demons to tap into the magic that still flows in our veins, but killing leeches. Permanently.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s a fickle weapon and it will only respond to the hand of a demon it considers worthy of being a king.”

Skye pointed toward the middle of the room. “Then what’s that sword?”

“A diversion. The Tempest was famous ten thousand years ago. Every demon in the world knew of its magic and secretly lusted to carry it.” Lynx smiled, as if relishing being at the center of attention. “But there was only one true master of the sword.” He paused, adding drama to his story. “Lynx.”

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