Page 6 of The Tracker's Revenge
Aaron seemed to weigh the situation for a moment, probably recalling every dirty rumor he’d heard about Eric Lone. I gnawed on my lower lip, my stomach making flips and threatening to send my morning coffee back into the light of day. A million computations passed behind Aaron’s brown gaze, but in the end—whatever numbers he crunched—came up positive because he nodded in Eric’s direction.
“Any friend of Toni’s is my friend.” He put a hand out, and they exchanged a sturdy handshake. There was no indication of a moratorium taking place between them, like when Jake and Eric had met. I guessed there was no need for it since Aaron wasn’t an alpha and had no trouble letting Eric be the top dog.
“Please, come in.” That anxious expression returned to Aaron’s face as he walked up the steps and guided us into his expensive house.
As we walked in, Rosalina and I exchanged a look of surprise at the luxurious interior. The place put Eric’s own house to shame. It was at least three times as big and with an interior design budget much bigger than Eric’s.
Rosalina leaned close and whispered in my ear. “I feel like I’m in an episode of Cribs.”
“No kidding,” I whispered back.
Only Eric seemed unimpressed by the polished marble, museum-quality art on the walls, custom furnishings, and overall splendor. Unfazed, he marked every door as if making an exit plan should there be a need for one.
“This way. Josh is in the study.” Aaron waved a hand and led us through an ample corridor and into a windowless room with a roaring fireplace.
The first thing that struck me was the stifling heat. It was about fifty degrees outside—a bit chilly for late spring—but in here it had to be at least a hundred degrees, much warmer than that hot yoga class Rosalina had dragged me to one day. I immediately wanted to shed my jacket, and my T-shirt, and my pants, but I kept them on. No reason to be impolite.
Aaron approached a wingback chair by the fireplace. Josh sat there, his feet propped up on an ottoman and a layer of thick blankets thrown over him, leaving only his head visible. He looked shrunken, a mere ghost of the handsome vampire I’d met only two weeks ago. Josh stirred. Suddenly, that toxic rot smell that I associated with a rhabo infection hit me like a slap to the face. I fought not to let the revulsion show in my expression and was grateful when—after quickly inspecting the room—Eric spoke from the door, forcing me to turn and hide my face until I composed myself.
“I’ll stay out here. Call me if you need me,” he said, then pulled the door shut.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron said in a sweet, gentle voice, “someone’s here to see you.”
Josh blinked his eyes open with difficulty as if the simple act of lifting his eyelids were a Herculean effort. His gaze danced around the room for a moment before settling on Aaron. A slow smile stretched his cracked lips, and one of his hands stirred under the covers. Understanding what he wanted, Aaron pushed the covers aside and interlaced his fingers with his.
My heart squeezed painfully at the sight. I couldn’t get used to the sight of an ill vampire. It just wasn’t supposed to happen. It was unnatural. Vampires were always healthy, and they lived forever. They didn’t deteriorate into empty husks. They didn’t smell of death, even if theyweredead.
Witnessing the agony in Aaron’s eyes put the last painful nail in my heart. I had to swallow hard not to let my tears fall. Instead, I slipped my hand inside my jacket pocket, pulled out the tiny box, and retrieved one of the vials. Holding on to the hope that Damien’s elixir would be a success, I took a step forward.
“Hi, Josh. It’s Toni. Remember me?”
Josh’s gaze reluctantly left Aaron’s, peeling away with difficulty and taking a long moment to find me. I gave him a smile when our eyes met and moved closer still. Afraid to invade their intimacy, I held the vial in Aaron’s direction.
“He has to drink this,” I said, my hand shaking, good and bad thoughts battling inside my head. The negative ones tried to push to the forefront, telling me that Damien’s cure would fail, and that, without him here to figure out what went wrong, Josh and Damien’s daughter would die. But more optimistic thoughts fought back. Damien had been a great mage, and his potion would work just fine. He hadn’t died in vain. He hadn’t dragged himself to our doorstep, fighting through his terrible injuries, to deliver an empty hope.
No. The cure would work.
Gently releasing Josh’s hand, Aaron rose to his feet, a grave expression shaping his features as if the battle of hoping andnothoping also raged inside of him.
He took the small vial from me, carefully pinching it between thumb and forefinger, then placing his other hand under it, in case it might accidentally slip. He knelt by Josh’s side once more and carefully unscrewed the container’s cap. A shimmery plume like a tiny galaxy of stars rose into the air.
My nose twitched as the smell of honey and burnt caramel filled the air. I was immediately transported to Damien’s potions room when he was carefully brewing the liquid, watching it distill through the thin laboratory tubes, dripping into crystal beakers. A pang of regret tightened my chest. I would never see Damien again.
“Drink this, Josh. It will make you feel better,” Aaron said.
I scrutinized Josh’s face as Aaron lifted the vial to his lips. The vampire’s expression didn’t change. He was so weak that he didn’t even have the energy to muster hope. Or perhaps he felt so far gone, that he didn’t think anything could save him. Maybe, he only opened his mouth and drank the sweet-smelling liquid to make Aaron happy.
His eyelids fluttered, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
We stared, our bodies and our hope frozen.
