Page 11 of Magic Unmasked

Morrigan smirked, brushing herself off as she stood. “Looks like you’re too late, shifter. Geneva’s long gone. You’re just in my way; stay out of fae business. The Duvalls are a threat…” She raised her hands as if to unleash some new magical trick.

But before she could do so a tray of rotting tomatoes came flying through the air.

Splat!

Where had they come from or rather, who had thrown them?

The tomatoes hit Morrigan in the face, destroying her smirk with a burst of red juice and seeds. The arrogant and deadly fae assassin was now dripping with the sticky remnants of rotten tomatoes, her expression one of absolute shock.

Morrigan let out a shriek of rage, furiously wiping the mess from her face. When she heard police sirens headed their way, she vanished into the shadows, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of nightshade behind.

Ronan stood in the center of the market, heart pounding and blood boiling. Geneva had slipped through his fingers again, and Morrigan Deathwing had made it clear that this game was far from over. He was in the middle of fae business now, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that fae didn’t fight fair.

And Lilith was one of them. Where the hell was she, anyway? What the hell was her role? How did she fit in, if she fit in at all?

Ronan barely had time to catch his breath before Morrigan’s laughter echoed through the air, a sharp, taunting sound that sent a shiver down his spine. She wasn’t done yet. The vines dissipated freeing him completely, but the dark magic lingered, thick in the air like a storm about to break.

Before he could even think about his next move, a sound pierced the chaos—the unmistakable wail of police sirens cutting through the air, growing louder by the second. The sirens grew closer, and in the distance, Ronan could see the flashing red and blue lights as Detective Gus Thibodeaux’s car screeched to a stop at the edge of the market. The detective stepped out, his hand resting on his holstered gun as he surveyed the destruction with narrowed eyes.

Ronan’s heart sank as he spotted Thibodeaux running into the fray. He’d known Thibodeaux for years. The detective had been sniffing around the supernatural underworld of New Orleans for almost as long, trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t even know existed. He was human, but he was persistent.

Gritting his teeth, Ronan weighed his options in the split second he had to decide. But the flashing lights, the approaching footsteps of Thibodeaux, and the panicked crowd of humans left him with no real choice.

As the detective’s footsteps grew closer, Ronan pushed his sabretooth down, forcing himself to remain calm. Thibodeaux rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the sight of thedestroyed stalls, the crushed fruits and vegetables littering the ground like battlefield debris. His gaze flicked to Ronan, suspicion darkening his features.

“Ronan,” Thibodeaux said, his voice wary. “What the hell happened here?”

Ronan let out a slow breath, his body still vibrating with the remnants of the fight. “Looks like the market had a rough day.”

Thibodeaux frowned, his hand still hovering near his gun. “That so? ’Cause it looks more like someone tore through here like a damn tornado.”

Ronan forced a tight smile, shrugging his shoulders. “You know how it is. Things get... out of hand sometimes.”

The detective’s gaze lingered on Ronan for a long moment, his suspicion clear. “I want to know what happened here, and I think you know.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Thibodeaux.”

“Do I need to arrest you and haul you in to get straight answers to my questions?”

“Arrest me? On what charges? See that’s the thing about the American jurisprudence system, you can’t arrest me for what youknow, only for what you canprove.”

After a tense silence, Thibodeaux finally nodded, letting out a sigh as he turned his attention to the ruined market. “You got lucky this time, Rousseau,” Thibodeaux muttered. “But one day, you’re gonna have to answer my questions.”

Ronan said nothing, watching as the detective started to inspect the scene. His jaw tightened, frustration gnawing at his insides. He had let Morrigan escape, and it burned him to his core. But as he glanced around at the scattered humans and the destruction, he knew he’d made the right call. Next time, he would be ready, and Morrigan would not be so lucky.

Chapter

Five

LILITH

Earlier in the day, Lilith had stalked through the winding alleys of New Orleans, frustration simmering just beneath her skin. She had spent the entire morning trying to track down Savannah Duvall, only to be met with dead ends and fading magical trails. It had felt like the Duvall sisters had become ghosts, slipping through her fingers every time she thought she was closing in. Savannah’s magic—so distinct, like the cool scent of ocean waves—had been tantalizingly close, yet somehow always just out of reach.

Now, as the sun had climbed higher into the midday sky, its warmth beating down on the city, Lilith had felt the familiar gnaw of impatience settle in her chest. She had been so close, but her lead had already slipped away. Her hand had twitched toward the hilt of her blade, fingers flexing against the cool metal. She had still sensed Savannah nearby, felt the faint pulse of her magic like a soft rhythm in the thick air.

Suddenly, the unmistakable scent of musk and wilderness had filled the air, the heady scent interrupting her focus. Lilith’s teeth had clenched.

Ronan. Shit. The last thing she needed was the sabretooth-shifter. The big sabretooth shifter just couldn’t seem to stay outof her business. She’d turned sharply, and he’d been right there, his tall frame cutting through the crowded street like he owned the place, his golden eyes sharp and hunting. He’d been closing in on Savannah too, his animal instincts clearly guiding him.

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