The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1)

by Ingrid Seymour

  He lowered his head as if searching for an answer in the floorboards. He found none.

  “Pain takes its toll, Jake. It shapes you, and it rids you of your soft edges. I’ve been honed, and there’s nothing soft about me anymore.”

  He met my gaze, and what I saw in his eyes made the half of my heart that wasn’t frozen twinge. I knew him well, all the creases in his face, and the way they arranged themselves to convey emotion, even against his will. Pain shaped his expression. But that wasn’t all, regret and longing were also there.

  At last, he spoke, his deep voice raw. “I understand. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  He turned and walked to the door. There, he took a deep breath as he stared at the glowing “open” sign affixed to the window. Deciding on the spot, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “I think I’ll keep the office. But don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore.”

  He left, and as the bell above him chimed, my knees unhinged and I collapsed in Rosalina’s chair.

  Chapter 7

  Up in my loft after work, I picked up the container of fish food and dropped five pellets into the bowl.

  “Eat, boy.” I tapped the glass.

  Cupid, my red and purple betta, floated at the bottom, oblivious to his dinner. Maybe he was mad because I’d forgotten to feed him last night.

  “He’s not eating,” I complained, glancing back at Rosalina who was sitting on my fuzzy Papasan chair, massaging her feet.

  “Stop projecting all your troubles on that fish.” She set down one foot and started on the other. “Gah, I hate breaking in new shoes. They’re cute, but they’re killing me.”

  “I’m not projecting. You know I need to do a good job with Cupid. I mean, to move up to a cat, I have to keep this fish alive.”

  Rosalina rolled her eyes. “Cats take care of themselves. They can probably even take care of you.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” I stared at Cupid, leaning over his bowl. Finally, he floated over and gulped one of the pellets. “Good boy!”

  Feeling as if I’d ran three marathons and then had been hit by a train, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the bed.

  “What a day.” I sighed.

  “Are you all right?” Her voice took on a serious tone.

  I pulled the pillow over and squeezed it tight. “I don’t know. I feel a mess.”

  “I don’t blame you. A lot just hit you. How do you feel about Jake being back?”

  I pressed a finger to my lips, then cupped both my ears and moved my hands around like radars. Werewolves could hear through walls if they tried.

  Rosalina frowned. “Wanna get out of here? Go get some dinner? You never ate your fried ravioli. You must be hungry.”

  It was early for dinner, but I was starving. Stress always had that effect on me. “I’ll have to eat something light, though.” I wrinkled my nose. “I have kick-boxing class later.”

  “Why don’t you skip?”

  I made a face. I didn’t like to skip. The exercise helped with the aforementioned stress.

  “You deserve a break, especially with Morelli’s tracking coming up.”

  She wasn’t wrong about that. Tracking always left me exhausted and banking my energy before the trance really helped. I’d never been as careful about using my powers as I was now, and I owed my prudence to Rosalina, who always had my best interest at heart.

  “All right, let’s do it,” I said. “I honestly think I can devour a large pizza all on my own.”

  After I changed into jeans, we locked the office and walked arm-in-arm down the street, our heels clicking against the sidewalk. I even managed not to glance in the direction of Jake’s office. I would have to decide what to do, whether to leave the building or stay. But I’d gotten there first, dammit. He should be the one to leave.

  Maybe I could sabotage him. Hmm, that was a worthy thought.

  We chose Giovanni’s Pizzeria across the street. It was a cozy place with a brick magical oven that infused their pizzas with unique secret flavors. The owner was an Italian mage with a specialty in culinary potions. The place packed a good crowd all the time.

  We got our favorite table. I inhaled the delicious smells, pinpointing known ingredients and wondering about some I’d never come across. When the food arrived, we ate like lions at the zoo. As we fought over the cheese sticks and marinara dipping sauce, we talked about inconsequential stuff like whether Italian sausage or pepperoni pizza ranked first and the cute outfit she wanted to buy for her Abuela’s birthday party in a couple of weeks.

  “That’s my Toni,” Rosalina said as I threw back my head laughing when I learned that Abuela Esperanza planned to rap during the party.

  The comment sobered me up a bit. I wanted to keep talking nonsense, but we needed to discuss what had happened. It always helped me to talk to Rosalina. She was the voice of reason when my emotions got messy—not to mention I’d tasked her with keeping me on the right path. Without supervision, I tended to do some dumb shit.

  Seeing that I was ready to talk, she gave me a sweet smile and said, “So, what are we gonna do? Stay? Leave? Give it some time to see what Jake does?”

  “That last one seems the most reasonable,” I said. “His PI business might tank.”

  “PI business? I thought you said he was a professional bum.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You said he never had a job, that he was independently wealthy.” She waved her hand in the air as if it was all the same.

  “He is. That’s why the PI business seems unnecessary. Although...” I paused. With my stomach full, and my temper simmering at a low burn, I started thinking more carefully about Jake’s career choice.

  “Although what?” Rosalina picked a pepperoni piece off our pizza and popped it in her mouth.

  My thoughts got ahead of myself as understanding dawned on me. “It’s because of his brother,” I blurted out.

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve never told you, but Jake had a brother who went missing. They never found him.”

  She leaned closer. “Really?”

  I nodded. “He disappeared when Jake was thirteen. He was two years older. Neil, that was his name. It pretty much destroyed Jake’s family. His father lost his mind searching for him. A few years later, he drank himself to death. Then I swear Jake’s mother died of a broken heart.”

  “That’s terrible”

  I should have known about it since Jake and I grew up in the same circles, but it wasn’t something anyone liked to talk about, so Jake had told me. I still remembered that night. He had nearly cried, and all I could do was hold him, words sticking to my throat. I’d known even then that words meant nothing against something of that magnitude.

  I sighed. “Jake always wanted to find him, at least know what happened to him. I think not knowing was the worst.”

  “Gah, I would die if something happened to Vannia.”

  Vannia was Rosalina’s sister. She was a senior in high school just like Lucia, my youngest sister.

  “Anyway,” I said, sadness heavy in my heart. “I guess that explains his PI calling.”

  “And what about him and Stephen? How do you think they met?”

  I glanced around the pizzeria as if the answer could be found in the pictures hanging on the wall.

  “They’re both werewolves,” I said lamely as if that could guarantee a friendship when it was the complete opposite. Werewolves stuck to their own and tended to hate members of other packs.

  “I thought you said Jake was a lone wolf? Don’t some people call him Jake Lone?”

  “Yes, after his parents died, he lost all connection to his pack. He retreated.”

  Rosalina frowned. “And Ulfen Erickson’s pack is pretty tight, so why would those two suddenly start hanging out? You don’t think it was because of you? Maybe they like exchanging make-out stories.”

  I made a strangling motion toward her neck. “Not funny.”

  She snickered, then so
bered. “Whatever the case, it’s weird.”

  Talking things out with Rosalina and filling my stomach with greasy dough set me at ease. In the end, we decided not to do anything rash. Our lease wasn’t up for another couple of months, anyway.

  “We’re almost out of Pixie dust,” I said. “I think I’ll go by Yalgrun’s tonight. Want anything?”

  “Oh, yes! Get me some of that Puck stool.”

  “Ew, how you put that stuff on your face, I just can’t even...”

  She thrust her chin in my direction. “Look at this skin. Flawless. The stuff works.”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t argue with that. Her skin was flawless. Still, I wouldn’t put Puck poop or anyone’s poop on my face—no way. I wondered if she would continue this particular beauty routine if she laid eyes on a Puck while lifting his stubby tail to do his business. I snickered at the image.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’d better get going.” I checked the time on my phone. “Yalgrun closes in an hour.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Nah, I’ll walk. I need the exercise since I missed class.”

  We said goodbye in front of the restaurant, then walked our separate ways. It was close to seven, which shocked me since that meant Rosalina and I had talked for nearly two hours. I smiled to myself. Whenever I was with her, time just seemed to fly.

  Chapter 8

  There were many gates to Elf-hame, the Fae realm. Some were well known, but the majority weren’t. Most people knew those intended for tourism and light shopping. But others, like me, had access to select entry points through which a less sanitized version of Elf-hame could be observed.

  To gain access, I had applied for a business license. It took over four weeks to secure it, and it gave me access to a nearby gate located in Tower Grove Park, only a fifteen-minute walk from the agency. The name of the trading post was Pharowyn.

  Walking briskly to get my heart going, I reached the park’s west gatehouse, then headed for the Turkish Pavilion, a large gazebo with a cupola roof painted in red and white stripes. When I arrived, I sat at one of its tables. The place was empty but for a jogger who stood at one corner, stretching, headphones stuffed into his ears.

  I traced an elf rune on the table’s surface with my index finger, a symbol assigned just to me, and waited as my surroundings gradually changed, a new reality bubbling into existence. The jogger disappeared, as did the pavilion, and was replaced by an outdoor tavern, located in a busy cobblestone market street.

  As soon as I materialized, a young, slight Fae rushed to my side, inclined his horned head, and spoke in his tilting accent. “May I serve you something, respectable lady?” He wore a rough tunic with wooden buttons and cropped brown pants with leather shoes no more substantial than ballet flats.

  “No, thank you, Abin Cenael,” I answered, using the phrase “respectable sir” in turn.

  His cheeks colored at the term, and his eyes flashed disappointment at my refusal.

  “I’ll get something on my way back,” I said. “I need to catch Yalgrun before he closes.”

  He beamed, his beautiful turquoise eyes sparkling, surely looking forward to a tip in human money. It was widely accepted in Elf-hame’s trading posts.

  I abandoned the tavern’s table and headed down the stall-lined alley. Here, most of the available goods consisted of food. Exotic fruits and vegetables, grilled meats, honey cakes, candy. My mouth watered as the different delicious scents fought for my attention. Generally, eating Fae food was a terrible idea. It could enthrall you and ruin you for any other type of food, but not here. Trading posts had laws against enchanted food. I ate the hazelnut and rhubarb tarts all the time. They were to die for.

  The people behind the stalls were all Fae of different kinds. Gnomes, dryads, knockers, pucks, you name it. They sported horns, hooves, tails, wings. Some were beautiful and others not so much. The customers, on the other hand, were more of a human persuasion. At least in aspect, since they included vampires, shifters, and the like. They were all Skews like me, though. No Stales got access to Fae posts like this one.

  Ignoring the food, I took a right into the next alley and entered an area with stone and mortar shops, places more permanent compared to the transient, removable stalls. One of those places was Yalgrun’s Wares.

  I bounded up the steps that led to his heavy front door and pushed it open. A wooden chime clattered above me, and Yalgrun looked up from his spot behind the counter.

  He came from an Elf-hame town called Bladuh and was one of the most intimidating-looking creatures I’d ever seen. At seven-foot tall, he had a body made out of tree branches and vines. They twisted into each other, forming a massive torso, neck, arms, and legs. The same continued over his face and formed two horns that stuck straight out of his head. He had entirely black eyes, two holes for a nose, and a mouth that sometimes clanked if he spoke without care.

  But however intimidating he might appear, once he opened his mouth, you couldn’t help but love him.

  “Toni Sunder,” Yalgrun said in his melodic baritone voice. “Your presence graces my humble shop.”

  “Hello, Abin Cenael, how do you fare?”

  “I fare splendidly. I hope you do as well.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve been better but can’t complain.”

  Yalgrun’s thick, ropy fingers lay interlaced on the wooden counter, which seemed to grow from the floor planks. He had four fingers on each hand, and I couldn’t help but count them each time I saw them. “Trouble brews in your realm, I hear.”

  I frowned up at him. “Oh?”

  “News reached us of the werewolf heir taken into captivity.”

  Wow, news had traveled fast indeed. I wondered if that meant the Fae had something to do with the kidnapping.

  I nodded. “Yeah, it’s unfortunate. I actually know him.”

  Yalgrun scratched his head, making a sound like two pencils tapping together. “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  His face creaked as he grimaced with regret. “I am so sorry to hear this.”

  “Well, we hadn’t talked in a while, so...”

  I let that hang, feeling awkward until I pulled a shopping list from my pocket and set it on the counter. “I’m running out of a few items, including Pixie dust.”

  He took the note with incredible gentleness, which seemed at odds with his large fingers. “I got a new batch just yesterday.”

  “Awesome.” Just the reason I loved shopping here. Always the freshest ingredients.

  He set about gathering my items, humming and lumbering around his high shelves. He pushed around jars, wooden boxes, dissected branches, rocks, and corked bottles full of strange liquids. I wiggled my nose as if that would get rid of the million scents that filled the shop.

  The chime clanked as another customer entered the shop. I glanced back and had to do a double-take. Fae individuals always left me in awe, but this time I was dumbstruck. I snapped my mouth shut, my teeth clicking, and forced myself to breathe before I passed out at the sight of the male who strolled in.

  He was magnificent. A walking dream imagined by a skillful artist. He had a warrior’s body, broad, tall, and muscled in all the right places. Long, blue-black hair fell chest-high around him, graced with narrow braids kept in place by silver beads. A pattern of intricate tattoos ran down the right side of his face from his temple down to his neck, where it disappeared under a black, embroidered tunic. Pointed ears decorated with silver cuffs stuck out through his luscious locks.

  And his face... oh, my God, his face. Everything about it was chiseled perfection. His straight nose, strong jaw, high cheekbones, and devastating lips. Thin eyebrows that rose at an impish angle framed a pair of serious, cobalt-blue eyes.

  He bowed as he noticed me watching and waited by the door, large hands clasped in front of him. I had never wanted to be anything but human, but at that moment I would have sold my unborn children to be the kind of Fae this male could fall for
.

  Geez, grow up, Toni.

  I shook myself and turned to Yalgrun, who still perused the shelves and, at last, came up with Rosalina’s puck stool, which I recognized by its black jar covered with a green cloth secured with twine.

  Yalgrun lumbered back in my direction and noticed the newcomer. His large, black eyes widened to the size of apples, and he clumsily set his load on the polished counter, jars clinking precariously against each other.

  “Prince Kalyll,” he said with a bow.

  Prince? Kalyll?

  If I had my facts straight, this was the Prince of the Seelie Fae. The eldest son of King Beathan Adanorin and Queen Eithne Adanorin.

  Holy shit!

  Did princes do their own shopping in Elf-hame? Judging by Yalgrun’s reaction, I didn’t think so.

  “And you must be Yalgrun of Bladuh,” the Prince said with a quick smile and a beautiful deep voice.

  “I am honored,” the shop owner bowed, his back creaking like an old door as his horns almost touched the counter. His head shifted from the Prince to me then back again. He didn’t seem to know what to do: finish filling the order of a lowly human or tend to his future king, even if he’d just shown up.

  I decided to make things easier for him. “I can pack all of this while you see to your new customer.”

  Yalgrun seemed relieved and moved down the counter to take Prince Kalyll’s order. While I wrapped my jars in brown paper and stuffed them in a cloth sack, I stole a few glances at the Prince’s profile. He murmured to Yalgrun, who quickly filled Kalyll’s order and got paid with several gold coins.

  Before I even finished packing my items, the Prince walked out the door with a quick farewell. As I paid a stunned Yalgrun in my lame American dollars, he took the money absentmindedly.

  “Prince Kalyll is a hottie, huh?” I said.

  Yalgrun’s brow knitted together. “Hottie?”

  “Um, never mind. Thanks for this.” I gestured toward the sack that now hung from my shoulder. “I’ll see you next month.”