Page 9 of The Tracker's Rage
“And I have a bad one. He kept me under a spell for twenty years, who does that?”
She leaned back on her chair and cautiously said, “He did it to help your mother.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right. They both screwed with me. I may never be the same. You have no idea how confused I feel, how hard it is to process all of these changes.”
She reached across the table and laid her hand on top of mine. “I do know it’s hard. I pay attention, and I’m trying to help. But we need to do something about Aaron and Josh, so maybe I can go see Damien and talk to him.”
“No way.” I shook my head. “We sent the cops after him, and he’s mad at us, remember?”
“Do you have any other ideas to help Aaron and Josh? Because I would rather go to them with help than with the news that their relationship was doomed before it even started.”
Once more, she was right. We had to do everything in our power to help the couple. We owed it to them.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh, “let’s go see Damien.”
Chapter 4
As we made our waydowntown toward Damien’s house, we drove the Camaro with the top down, playing a pop station on the radio. Rosalina was humming and moving her head to the beat of the song. Her good mood was infectious, and soon we were both singing and pumping our fists in the air.
The light feeling that possessed me was welcomed, and it made me miss how things had been just a few weeks ago before Jake made it back into my life. It was amazing how one person could screw up someone’s life, from zero to hell.
We parked across from Damien’s crumbling, goth house and crossed the street. I was about to ring the bell when I noticed the door was cracked open. Rosalina and I exchanged a glance of concern. I rang the bell anyway and waited. There was no response. I knocked next and poked my head in.
“Hello, anybody home? Damien?”
No answer still.
We walked further into the foyer, leaving the door open a crack, the way it had been. The place was eerily silent. I glanced toward the landing at the top of the marble staircase, admired the modern interior, and elegant décor, but saw no signs of the mage. We headed slowly toward the kitchen, the only place in the house we’d visited. We were halfway there when there was a loud crash somewhere in the house.
I stopped abruptly, putting a hand out to stop Rosalina. “I think we should get out of here and call the police.”
She nodded, and we started to backtrack the way we’d come when two figures appeared in front of the exit. One was a black wolf, and the other a man. I recognized both of them immediately.
Blake Foster and Jenson Boyle.
The wolf was as massive as I remembered, his head reaching past Jenson’s elbow, his shoulders heaving with anger. His eyes shone yellow as he fixed them on me. The mage was dressed all in black and wore the same leather cloak I’d seen on him before. His bright red hair stood on end as usual, but unlike the last time we’d met, his eyes shone copper, not blue, which meant he’d powered up his magic to the next level. Not good.
