Page 44 of The Tracker's Rage
Chapter 17
“Idon’t like this,”Jake said, pulling me aside as Eric and Damien conferred in the opposite corner of the room. “I don’t like that mage and messing with the Fae rarely comes to any good.”
I pulled my hand from his grip. “I’m doing this, Jake, and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop me.”
Narrowing my eyes, I expected him to argue, but he simply lowered his head and gave me a single nod. I looked him up and down, wondering if he was feeling all right. Maybe he’d caught a bug, and it’d gone to his head. Telling me what to do and insisting on it when I refused was his favorite pastime.
“I wish you wouldn’t, but it’s your decision,” he said.
I was about to touch his forehead to check for a spike in his temperature when Rosalina sidled closer. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“I’ve no idea.” I had never been to Elyndell and had absolutely no clue how to find Prince Kalyll.
Rosalina frowned, looking as if she was going to be sick to her stomach. Had she caught the same bug Jake had?
“What is it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing, just me worrying abouteverything, but the most important thing is that you get back safely.”
And byeverything, I was pretty sure she meant the agency. Was I making the right decision? We had discussed it and agreed that we had to help Josh and Aaron, but was she having second thoughts?
Jake’s clear eyes darted back and forth between Rosalina and me, his interest piqued by our conversation. Giving him a dirty glare, I pulled Rosalina aside.
“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing this?” I asked. “Are you getting cold feet?”
“No. Not when I think of poor Josh, and how lost Aaron looked when we told him. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we don’t help them. We can’t sacrifice our integrity for monetary gain.”
It was more than just money, though. It was our dream, what we’d been working so hard to accomplish. We didn’t want more than most people—just a way to be independent and feel accomplished. But if our business failed, we wouldn’t starve. Worst case scenario, she might have to go back to being a barista while I rejoined the homeless, but we would be alive. Unlike Josh.
“Okay,” I said. “We both have to be on the same page. I couldn’t do any of this if you didn’t agree. We’re partners.” I wanted to make sure she understood that. There could be no regrets later, no matter the outcome.
“Are you ready?” Damien approached, followed by Eric.
“As ready as I'll ever be,” I said.
He extended a large purse in my direction. It looked like something an old grandma might carry around. It was the size of a backpack, made of black velvet with a pattern of golden flowers. It had a silken drawstring, and bright yellow lining.
I took the bag with hesitation for fear it might zap my senses like the rattle had done. It didn’t. “What is this?”
“Our supplies,” Damien said. “Food and the like. We can’t eat anything the Fae might offer us—not in Elyndell, anyway.”
I glowered at him. What did he think I was? His pack mule? I set the bag on the worktable, and just as I was about to release it, the strong scent of mothballs hit me, followed by what sounded like a klaxon blaring in my ear. A rainbow of color flashed before my eyes. I recoiled, blinking.Really? Again?!What was going on? These episodes felt too much like when I went into a trance. Were my powers changing? It certainly seemed so. What more would I manage to see if I held on to the bag? I needed to talk to Damien about this new development, but right now wasn’t a good time.
“I’m not carrying that ugly thing,” I said, faking a shiver to disguise my reaction.
“Ugly?!” Damien exclaimed. “It belonged to my mother.”
“No wonder. She could probably be my Nonna’s Nonna.” If I had to guess, the woman had probably been born in the early 1900s, maybe even earlier, which beat Nonna by about fifty years.
The mage pointed a finger at my face. “I’ll have you know that—”
“Damien,” Eric interrupted, “I’m sureyoucan carry the bag.” There was something in his blue eyes that seemed to tell him not to push his luck with me. Damien grumbled something under his breath but picked up the bag.
I smirked.
The mage went for his cloak, and with dexterous fingers, tied it around his neck. Next, he set the silken top hat on his head. He cast a furtive glance in Rosalina’s direction. So far, he had acted as if she wasn’t there, but clearly, he was quite aware of her presence.
“Good luck, Damien,” Rosalina said, realizing he wasn’t as ambivalent as he would have her believe.
