Page 42 of The Tracker's Revenge

“Wasn’t I?”

I flashed him a dirty look. Unwilling to press him for the truth, I glanced around the room. “What the hell is this place anyway?”

Eric let his gaze travel over the mirrors. “A place of Damien’s creation. It can do anything you want it to do. This house... it’s suffused with his magic, his essence.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Go away,” he said, sounding disgusted, all of a sudden.

The mirrors disappeared as soon as the words were out of his mouth. I stared in astonishment at the empty room, the walls were covered with black and white toile wallpaper. The baseboards were wide, the floors perfectly polished hardwoods, and the gas sconces imbued with magical warm light.

“Anything I want?” I murmured, striding away from the door, and running my finger along the wall.

Eric made an affirmative sound in the back of his throat.

“Damien,” I said without thinking, without knowing exactly what I meant.

A figure materialized in the back of the room. I gasped at the sight of the silken cloak and top hat.

“What the fuck?!” Eric exclaimed, his voice breaking. “What did you do?!”

I shook my head. I hadn’t meant to, I had just...

I outstretched a hand in Damien’s direction and took a step forward. He stood tall, slender, and impeccably dressed, his blotchy pupils reflecting the light, while his copper-colored irises seemed to glow.

“Is that really you?” I whispered.

Eric growled. “Don’t be stupid,” he said and stormed out of the room, leaving me behind.

Nervously, I glanced back from Damien to the door, unsure of what to do. Should I go after Eric? Or should I stay here with... a ghost, or whatever this was?

“Um,” I struggled with what to say, then, as I stared into Damien’s impassive face, I realized his expression hadn’t changed one bit.

“You’re not really here.”

In answer, he disappeared, gone as quickly as he’d come. My heart clenched as I was reminded that he was really gone, and he was never coming back, no matter how much we willed him to come to us.

Hurriedly, I left the room in search of Eric. I found him sitting at the top of the marble staircase, elbows on knees, eyes staring into nothingness.

I approached, cautiously. “I’m sorry.”

He only grunted in answer, but it was enough to let me know he didn’t blame me. I sat by his side and heaved a sigh, the grief of Damien’s loss eating at me, and stirring my anger and desire for revenge.

“He was my only friend,” Eric said. “The only person left who... knew.”

I didn’t need him to elaborate. I understood. He meant his family. His pain, a pain that despite the years since they’d been murdered didn’t seem lessened in the least.

“I know it’s not much or nearly the same,” I said, “but I can be your friend. I mean... I consideryoumy friend. Losing your family...” I shook my head. “I can’t even imagine, but if you ever need anyone to talk to...” I trailed off again. God, I was so bad at this.

“Maybe.” He glanced at me sideways and gave me a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes. It was such an asshole thing to say, but coming from Eric, it almost made me hopeful. Maybe he would, at last, let me in.

Shaking myself, I stood up and stretched my neck from side to side. “Man, I feel like shit.” I was suddenly heavy and lethargic as if my bones had been replaced with lead.

“Fleeting makes you feel like that. It takes some getting used to, but there’s always a price to pay for doing it.”

“Figures,” I complained.

“Make sure to hydrate and take in a lot of calories today.”

I started down the stairs. “I hope you weren’t expecting to get much more out of me today. I have a busy day ahead. Stuff at the office. Bye!”

I continued down the stairs and as I made it to the bottom Eric asked, “How did you do it? What helped you finally fleet?”