Page 68 of The Rogue's Curse

“It’s all right. I’m glad you can see it, too. This is powerful,” Misha said.

Shoshanna looked grim and nodded. “I can feel it. It’s…” She shook her head. “It feels so wrong.”

They stared ahead at the seemingly innocuous office building ahead. “Is that it?” Paris asked.

Misha shook his head and closed his eyes. Blocking out his mundane sight allowed him to focus on Lilah’s essence. “Assuming she’s with him, they’re further in. I can sense it beyond here.”

“Can you be sure that Shea is there, too?” Shoshanna asked.

“I can, but it’s a much more complex process, and I need a place to work for a few hours,” he said. “Let’s investigate further, and then we’ll find a place to work.”

“Then let’s go,” Paris said.

Before Misha could speak, Shoshanna said, “We shouldn’t cross the line until we know more. You know all those spells I did at Infinity?”

“The ones that lit it up like a bloody disco?” Paris asked. A mischievous twinkle in his eye said it had been quite a show.

“This is a hundred times more powerful than that,” Shoshanna said. “There’s no telling what will happen when we cross the line. We should analyze it first. I could start trying to sketch it if I can pull at a thread.”

Misha’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t interact with it yet,” he said. He closed his fist around the bloodstone and glanced back. His vision was blurry, and Shoshanna recoiled at the sight of him. “We should find the edges of it. Shea is most likely at the center of this protective ward.”

“We can split up,” Alistair said. “You two head one way, and we’ll go the other.”

“And do what, precisely?” Paris asked.

James, the driver, cleared his throat. “You could use a running app.”

“Huh?” Alistair asked.

“I like to run. Well, I did before I turned, but it isn’t quite the same now. Anyway…if you download an app and start a run, it’ll track your progress. At the end, you’ll have a digital trail of where you went,” James said.

“Get this man a promotion,” Paris muttered.

A few minutes later, Alistair and Paris had both downloaded apps at James’s recommendation. Misha and Paris climbed out of the car and headed away from the vehicle. Out in the night air, the sensation of magic was palpable, as if the atmosphere was electrified. It triggered all his senses, the smell and taste of it thick on his tongue, while every hair on his body stood on end.

He glanced at Paris and said, “I may need you to guide me. Using my arcane sight alters my equilibrium.”

Paris smirked at him. “Is this an excuse to hold my hand?”

“I already told you I’d fuck you out of your mind,” Misha said. “Do you think I’d be coy about holding your hand?”

The other man’s cheeks actually flushed. Throwing Paris off-balance felt like conquering the universe. Apparently unable to summon a witty retort, Paris simply took his hand and guided him along the sidewalk. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Starting the tracking now.”

Together, they walked in the quiet, and Misha again found himself distracted with thoughts of how lovely and normal this was. After a few minutes, he realized he’d been entirely focused on the feeling of Paris’s skin, the way his scent wafted in the air.

Squeezing the bloodstone in his other hand, Misha forced his attention back to their task. It was odd to sense such a powerful wall even while seeing the open, inviting space. Tiny motes of energy wafted away from it and disintegrated. The smell reminded him of the magic that clung to Paris, though it was less intense, more of a dry and dead stench.

Slowly, they followed the wall of shadow. It gradually curved, forcing them to cross the street several times to avoid walking directly into a building. When they drew closer to the barrier again, whispering voices tickled at Misha’s’ senses.

Fear oozed down his spine and pooled in his belly, where it swirled and roiled. Something scraped across concrete nearby, and he yanked away from Paris to look behind them.

“Hey, what’s—”

“Oh, fuck,” Misha muttered. Shadow dripped from the wall and formed a puddle on the cracked concrete below. But the puddle didn’t spread; instead, it began to draw itself upright into a strange, spindly-legged creature with gleaming silver-blue eyes. He drew his athame and looked over at Paris, who was gaping at him.

“What’s wrong?” Paris asked.

“Look!” Misha said, pointing with the blade. As soon as he gestured, the spindly creature broke from him, its impossibly long legs carrying it over the concrete at dizzying speed. He lunged and slashed at it, but the creature simply parted around his blade and slashed at him with one wicked claw. It opened a seam across his arm, though he dodged the worst of it.

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