Page 73 of The Tracker's Rage
Aw, maybe he missed me.
Nah, that couldn’t be it.
Eric’s heart was a lump of ice. He was incapable of missing anyone.
“I was at The Chained Wolf last night,” I said.
That did the trick. He let the door swing open and allowed me in.
I stepped into the foyer. “I take it you heard about the brawl that broke out.”
“Indeed.”
I glanced around the large space and saw that the hidden door at the side of the marble steps was cracked open. “Is Damien down there?”
“Yes. He’s doing the final touches on the cure.”
“Really?” That got me excited. I would soon have good news for Aaron and Josh. Leaving Eric behind, I headed downstairs into the gloom of the mage’s potions room.
Eric came down with me, and we found Damien leaning on his worktable, peering at bubbling flasks in a short-path distillation setup. A blue flame burned steadily under a round flask filled with clear liquid. Glass pipes climbed in different directions, depositing droplets into other instruments. A sweet scent permeated the room, something between honey and burnt caramel.
When he heard us coming down, he glanced away from his concoction and gifted us with his attention.
“I remember saying that I would call you when this was ready,” he grumbled.
“Jeez, you two certainly put the grouch in grouchy,” I said. “The perfect pair, I suppose.”
“She says she was at The Chained Wolf last night,” Eric offered.
Damien’s cranky expression morphed into one of interest. “What were you doing there?”
“Is there somewhere we can sit and talk? It’s a long story. Plus, some weird stuff happened with my abilities, and I was hoping you two could help me understand.”
“Weird stuff, huh?” Eric said, then turned to Damien. “You really did a number on her with that spell.”
“I’ve made amends,” the mage said. “I brought her to you.”
Eric laughed dryly. “I doubt she feels that evens out the score. Maybe you just built up a bigger debt.”
Was that a joke? Was Eric capable of self-deprecating humor? Maybe hell was freezing over.
Damien turned back to his instruments, adjusted the flame that burned under his potion, and nodded to himself. “This should be ready in forty-eight hours.”
“That’s awesome!” I exclaimed. “I can’t wait to give the good news to my client.”
The mage turned. “We can talk in the kitchen. I find that my good humor has made me hungry.”
Good humor? Seriously?I considered for a moment. Maybe this was what passed for good humor with him. Ihadseen his really awful temper the day he blasted a hole in the floor at my agency, so this was certainly an improvement, and maybe the best I could expect from him.
In the kitchen, Damien went straight to a brand new espresso machine and started fiddling with it, grinding coffee beans and filling the space with their delicious aroma. He pulled a bowl of fruit from the refrigerator and retrieved a box of pastries from a pantry. He laid napkins plates and utensils next to the food and invited us to partake.
I gladly accepted his offerings. My refrigerator was still an echo chamber, and I’d been so intent on getting here that I didn’t stop for breakfast. He made a strong cup of coffee for everyone, and provided a little pitcher of heavy cream and a container of sugar cubes that put the “P” in Perfect.
“This is some amazing coffee,” I said. “Rosalina would love it.”
Damien frowned as I mentioned her name. “How is your friend doing?” he asked, trying too hard to make the question sound casual.
“She’s fine,” I said. “Worried about our business since we don’t have any clients lined up right now. With everything that’s going on, it’s been kind of hard to operate normally.”
