Page 119 of The Tracker's Revenge
I had snapped out of the trance and sat up screaming hysterically.
“She’s dead. She’s dead!”
Jake wrapped his arms around me and rocked me back and forth. He didn’t know how to communicate with a deaf and blind person, but he took care of me until my senses returned hours later.
“She’s not dead,” I’d said later, sitting up in my bed, arms tightly circling my legs. “I won’t accept it.”
Jake and Eric said nothing to that, but when Damien got out of the hospital the next day, he agreed with me.
“Magic could be concealing Rosalina’s location from Toni’s powers,” he’d said, then we’d gone on to look for her in every other way we knew. His magic also yielded no answer.
For several days, we searched Eric’s cabin, Rosalina’s apartment, and anywhere else we could think of and found nothing that magic or enhanced wolf senses could trace. I called her family, and we filed a missing person’s report with Tom’s help. That also brought us zero leads.
Jake put people in his pack on the alert, and Damien asked mage and witch friends to help.
Still nothing.
My hope sank a little more every day and was now kicking desperately, searching for the tiniest lifeline.
I sank my face between my hands, trying to work out where she could be.
The door opened with a chime, and Jake, Eric, and Damien walked into the agency.
“Ready?” Jake asked.
I nodded but didn’t rise from the couch. We were all going back to Eric’s cabin to search again. Maybe we’d missed something before. They stood awkwardly for a second before also taking a seat.
Damien sat across from me, looking much more like himself. His hair was completely white again, not gray like when he’d regained his human form. He smiled sadly, his blotchy pupils filling most of his copper irises. He wore a suit, but no cloak or top hat. He had seemed less of a diva lately and spent a lot of time lost in reflection.
I matched his sad smile. “I don’t think I’ve said this—it’s obvious and all—but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, I have to agree,” Jake said as he settled next to me on the couch.
All eyes turned to Eric.
He crossed his arms and, eyes roving around the room, said, “Me, too. I guess.”
We knew he wasn’t big on expressing his feelings, but the sentiment in his gaze was true enough.
Poor Damien. The news about his daughter’s death had hit him hard. Worst of all, he’d learned of what had happened while in his cat shape. It turned out all that time he was in my condo, he’d been able to come in and out, and he hadn’t been idle. Instead, he’d been catching up on what he’d missed, eavesdropping and scampering about the city, learning what he could.
I had apologized for not getting to Liliana in time, but he reassured me he didn’t blame me. “Mekare is the only culprit,” he’d said to me, hate flashing in his copper eyes.
The details of how Damien had managed to remain among us after Mekare’s attack were short of a miracle. As a Copper Mage who very much liked being alive, many years ago, he’d taken care to craft a spell to protect his life essence.
“I admit it’s not a very elegant spell, and I wasn’t sure it would work, but alas...” he’d told us as he explained how he’d achieved resurrection.
He said that the spell took care of preserving his life force, keeping it safe inside his dead body along with a tiny spark of magic.
“Once I was buried, I was able to use that bit of magical energy to transfer my life force into another body.”
“A cat?” Eric had asked.
“Well, not at first.” The mage was reluctant to elaborate, but he owed it to us, so he explained. “In the beginning, I was an... earthworm.”
Eric laughed uproariously at that, earning a disdainful glare from Damien.
“It was a painstakingly long process,” Damien continued. “Half the time I forgot what I was supposed to be and went on being a miserable worm. When I remembered my true identity, I endeavored to gather enough magic for another spell. Soon, I graduated to a mouse and then to a cat.”
