Page 22 of The Tracker's Dawn: Sunderverse
“We will get it all figured out later,” Jake said firmly. “It will take some work getting things back into shape, but don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of it.” His tone brooked no challenges, and my heart swelled a little more, knowing that I had his unconditional support. I was glad the explosion hadn’t damaged his office. Mekare’s magic had been well-targeted.
“So tell us, Mr. Copper Mage,” Eric said, “how did you get them out of there before the explosion?”
“Ah, I’d love to tell you all about it, but only over a stiff drink. Anyone else care to join me? I think Eric keeps some oakfire for this type of occasion.”
“I wouldn’t mind some of that,” Jake put in, and I had to agree.
Eric glowered at Damien, none-too-happy about the disclosure of this secret. Oakfire was expensive, and the only thing able to get a werewolf drunk. After a moment, he shrugged, though. “Follow me, it’s in my study.”
I shook my head. “You all go. I’ll stay with Rosalina. I don’t want to leave her alone.”
“Never mind, I’ll bring the bottle and some glasses here.” He left with a wave of his hand.
“Bring me some Scotch,” Damien called out.
“Let’s sit here.” Jake guided me toward the seating area right across from Rosalina.
We sank down with relief, glad everything had turned out okay.
Eric came back a few minutes later, and as we sat there, enjoying the heat of the oakfire in our chests, we listened to Damien’s explanation of how he’d saved the hostages from Mekare’s evil clutches.
CHAPTER 8
“Odd to think that Iowe my life to the Seelie Prince,” Rosalina said, looking bewildered.
We were sitting cross-legged on the bed of her room in Eric’s house, facing each other. It was the morning after our confrontation with Mekare, and she appeared much recovered thanks to Damien’s spells. She was freshly showered, her black hair wrapped up in a towel and piled on top of her head. She had no makeup on and wore an overly large T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that belonged to Eric. Dressed like a princess in a potato sack, she still looked absolutely beautiful.
“And Damien, of course,” she said. She shook her head in disbelief. “God, he’s alive. I thought I was dreaming when I saw him.”
“I bet.”
I had caught her up on everything that happened since Mekare took us from Eric’s cabin. She did the same, relating how while I was in my tracking trance trying to find the witch’s supposed soulmate, the door to the cabin slammed open and a blast of magic hit her, rendering her unconscious. The next thing she knew, she woke up in a dark cellar, alone. She didn’t see Gonira or Em, not until last night.
Now, there was only one thing left for me to tell her, and I didn’t know how I would manage. Our agency was destroyed, all our hard work gone in an instant. I guessed the insurance would pay for the damage, but the lost time would still hurt our business. And with everything gone, the inevitable question arose... was it worth starting over? The way things had been going, I wasn’t so sure. In fact, if I was being objective, the answer would beno.
My heart squeezed tightly. Our dream’s slow death had started that day at Ulfen Erickson’s party. Blake’s body hanging over the miniature model had been the first sign that everything was doomed. Then, last night, it had all ended with a massive heart attack that would need weeks if not two months of constant CPR to revive it.
