Page 83 of Ancient Magic

Valen frowned as he realized that their story was taking them in a circle. “Then Maya traces the disguise amulets worn by the fairies to a demon named Hexx who led her back to this theater. This place must have some significance.”

“Agreed.” Gabriel grimaced. “But we don’t know what significance, and we still don’t know who is behind the plot or why they targeted Micha.”

Valen abruptly reached out to grasp his friend’s arm. “Someone’s here.”

“Goblin,” Gabriel muttered, heading toward the edge of the balcony.

Valen joined him and they peered down at the bald male with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. He was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans and was surrounded by a red glow that marked him as a demon. A grim smile curved Valen’s lips as he recognized the male.

Gunther.

In silence they watched the goblin study the body hanging from the chandelier before he turned his attention to the head planted on the stage.

“What the hell?” Gunther muttered, stumbling back even as Valen and Gabriel vaulted over the brass railing of the balcony to land lightly in the middle aisle.

“My exact question,” Valen drawled.

With a warning snarl, Gunther spun around, a gun clutched in his hand. At the sight of Valen and Gabriel his eyes widened in fear.

“Your Excellency.” Dropping to his knees, Gunther tossed away the weapon and bent his head.

“Gunther.” Valen stepped forward, sensing Gabriel moving toward the side door to make sure the demon was alone. “Get to your feet,” he commanded, waiting for the male to struggle to surge upright, his head still lowered. “What are you doing here?”

“This is the headquarters for my horde.” He struggled to swallow, as if he had a lump in his throat. “I have squatter rights.”

Valen ignored the claim, pointing toward the body hanging above their heads. “Are you responsible for this?”

“No way.” Gunther gave an emphatic shake of his head. “I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

He had a point. Gunther was a local bully, but his power was at the low end for demons. In a head-to-head battle, Igor Triton would have ripped him to shreds without breaking a sweat.

This time, Valen pointed at the head on the stage. “Do you recognize him?”

Gunther paused. Was he debating if he could get a lie past Valen? At last deciding it wasn’t worth the risk, he offered a grudging nod.

“He calls himself Igor, but I don’t know if that’s his real name,” Gunther said. “He came to New York last month.”

Last month? Shock jolted through Valen. Kane’s most trusted servant had been creeping around his city for a month? Why the hell hadn’t he known? The question burned through his brain, but he already knew the answer. His attention had been consumed with Peri and their mating.

Nothing else had mattered.

Now his distraction was coming back to bite him on the ass.

Valen was careful to keep his expression unreadable as he glared at the nervous demon.

“How do you know him?”

“He started showing up at the clubs around the city flashing lots of money and promising to share it with anyone willing to work for him.”

“Doing what?”

“I think he had different jobs for everyone. When he found out I had one of the biggest hordes in the city he hired us to...” The words faltered as Gunther shifted from foot to foot, the scent of his sweat tainting the air.

“To what?”

“A few odds and ends,” he muttered, the old-fashioned phrase exposing his age. Demons weren’t immortal, but their lives were counted in centuries, not years. When they were nervous or upset they allowed past clichés, or even long-forgotten words, to slip into the conversation.

Valen narrowed his gaze. “‘Odds and ends’ is a little vague.”

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