Levet wasn’t satisfied, his wings fluttering with a sudden emotion.
“Did you ever feel compelled to keep it with you?”
Sally hesitated and Roke stepped toward her, a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Sally?” he urged.
“I suppose I thought about the box over the years, but I never felt compelled to retrieve it,” she admitted. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
Levet pointed a claw toward the box. “There’s an illusion wrapped around it.”
“Impossible,” Sally breathed. “I would have sensed a spell.”
“It is demon magic, not human,” Levet explained.
“Oh.”
Roke instinctively moved closer to Sally. Why the hell did it always have to be magic?
He’d braved the battles of Durotriges to become a clan chief.
He’d killed an entire tribe of full-grown orcs with a kitchen knife.
He could crumble a building to rubble with the force of his anger.
But magic?
He shook his head in frustration.
“Can you break it?” he demanded.
“Do you mean to insult me?” the gargoyle huffed. “There is none greater in destroying magical illusions than moi.”
Roke made a sound of disgust even as he wrapped an arm around Sally’s shoulders and tugged her away from the bed.
“Stand back,” he warned.
Sally sent him a worried frown. “Why?”
“That gargoyle is a menace.”
“Hey,” Levet protested.
Roke pointed an impatient finger toward the box. “Just do your thing.”
With a sniff the gargoyle turned back to the box, his tail stirring the dust on the floor as he waved his hands dramatically in the air.
Roke clenched his teeth.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Levet was the only one around who could reveal the magic surrounding the box, Roke would have him tossed over the cliff.
Three weeks was longer than any rational man should have to endure with the aggravating pest.
There was another wave of his hands, then a faint pop as the illusion was destroyed.
“Voilà,” Levet murmured, turning around to offer a small bow.
Sally watched the gargoyle in silence, not quite certain what to think of the tiny creature.