The Tracker's Secret: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 2) by Ingrid Seymour (the gingerbread man read aloud .txt) 📗

Damien. His claws sliced through the air as the mage leaned back, The Matrix style, avoiding the attack with ease. With a speed that could only have been produced by magic, he righted himself and delivered a bone-cracking right hook to Jake’s jaw.

The sound of the strike reverberated through the office as if from stereo speakers. I staggered back as the awful thud echoed in my ears, recalling the horrible sounds I’d heard last night during the trance.

Suddenly, I was there again, at that warehouse, sprays of blood cutting through the air as Blake struck again and again. His victim’s head snapped back. I couldn’t watch, not again. I walked backward, away from the horror.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here.

I shook my head, panic building. My eyes darted around, searching for an exit. Wooden crates surrounded me. I turned left then right. The crates went on for miles and miles. They were all identical, its planks stamped with a logo.

There’s no way out. No escape.

My heart pounded. I grabbed my head and dug my claws into my scalp.

Not really here. Wake up, Toni. Wake up!

The pain sliced through my terror. I inhaled deeply, willing myself to calm down. That was when I understood all I had seen last night, even the things my shock had hidden from me.

Still breathing heavily but more calmly, I glanced up and stared at one of the crates, at the logo. It was the same bleeding heart stamped in the small bag of rhabo Rosalina had retrieved from Damien’s house. And underneath it, words.

Pulse Inc.

I came to gasping for air, my head pounding and a cold sweat sliding down my back. I blinked my eyes open to find three staring faces. Rosalina, Jake, and Damien hovered over me, looking worried.

“Oh, thank the witchlights. Are you all right?” Rosalina pressed a hand to my forehead. “She’s so cold.”

“Let me take her upstairs.” Jake slid his arms under me and picked me up as if I were no more than a child. He bounded up the loft steps. I wanted to protest, to say that I was all right, but my head was so foggy I couldn’t even think of how to shape words.

A moment later, Jake laid me down. Rosalina and Damien appeared at the foot of the bed.

I stared at the mage. “Weren’t you... just trying to kill us?”

Jake’s eyes flicked toward Damien, flashing with a silver sparkle of threat. Suddenly, it occurred to me that if Damien said the wrong thing, he might spill the beans of my secret to Jake. I bit my lower lip, praying the mage held his tongue.

“Kill you?” Damien said. “No, why would I try to kill you? I just wanted to find out who sent you to snoop on me.”

“You busted my hardwoods.” I sat up, but my head started swimming, so I collapsed back down on the pillow.

The mage rolled his eyes. “Truth spells are not meant to be used on oak. Besides, you going all glowy with blue magic was far more interesting.”

I frowned at Rosalina. “What is he talking about?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You told me to hide.”

I turned to Jake. He was frowning, looking concerned. “I saw it, too. Magic just started crackling all over your body,” he said. “Then you fell to the floor, seizing. It was scary as hell. I thought...” He didn’t finish, but I had the feeling he’d been about to say “I thought you were dying.”

I sat up again, more slowly this time. I lowered my feet to the floor and squeezed my eyes tightly, trying to dispel the wave of dizziness that overtook me. Shit, the whole room was tumbling like a washing machine.

Then it all came rushing back to me. I gasped.

“What is it?” Jake knelt by my side, placing a hand on my knee.

I met his gaze. “I know where Blake is.”

“Blake?” Damien echoed. “Are you talking about Blake Foster? Is that who sent you?!” he demanded, growing angry again.

Jake stretched to his full height and leaned threateningly in the mage’s direction.

Damien cracked his knuckles. “You want me to punch you again, I see.”

A growl sounded in the back of Jake’s throat.

I rose to my feet, a little wobbly but not dizzy anymore. “Hold your horses, you two. Let’s talk about this before you cause more destruction. Please, everybody, sit and calm down.”

Jake huffed. I touched his arm and glanced toward the bed. He sat down reluctantly. I joined him while Rosalina sat on the papasan chair, and Damian pulled a wooden chair from the corner.

“To answer your question,” I said calmly, “Blake didn’t send us. No one did. Rosalina and I just wanted to learn more about rhabo. We have a client and his mate is dying from using the drug. Jake told me that you might be involved with the drug trade somehow, so we took it upon ourselves to find out, hoping that you might know of a way to fight the effects of the drug.”

“You think I’m involved in the trade of rhabo?” the mage asked, appalled.

“Well, aren’t you? You had a mountain of it in your house.” Rosalina glared at him, sounding indignant.

“That was not mine. I took it from a werewolf who was selling it to young vampires out of the trunk of his vehicle.”

“You did?” Rosalina’s question sounded hopeful, and she seemed ready to believe him. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.

Jake blew air through his nose. “You and Eric Cross have more to do with rhabo than you’re willing to admit. I know you do.”

Damien gave Jake a dirty look but didn’t deny the assertion. Instead, he said, “We’re not dealers. Of that, you can be sure. Blake Foster, on the other hand, he’s the main provider. I know he isn’t dead. I just don’t know where to find him, so where is he?”

“Blake Foster is dealing rhabo?” Jake asked incredulously. “How do you know that?”

“I got the truth