The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) by Ingrid Seymour (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

“Okay, I’ll head out to the Basilica to scout for Celina’s mate. I feel pretty confident I’ll find him.”

“That’s the attitude.”

I walked back to the car. The beautiful day had put a much-needed spring in my step. The air was crisp, the sun was shining, and I had someone to make happy today. Celina wouldn’t have to worry about that buttwipe who broke her heart anymore. Once I found Mr. Morelli, and he melted into a puddle at her feet, her checkbook would cha-ching Rosalina and me straight into tracking stardom—not to mention I would have enough money for my condo’s down payment.

The day called for driving with the top down. It felt amazing and reminded me of how much I missed driving, especially this car. My hair flew about, and the sun sparkled on the hood and bounced off my sunglasses. I even splurged on a Venti caramel frappuccino at a drive-through, and by the time I parked and walked toward the Basilica, I felt almost back to normal. And the best part... I was doing great keeping both Jake and Stephen out of my mind, and ignoring the heavy weight of guilt on my back.

Slurping my drink, I walked down Lindell Blvd, assessing the area. Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis lay to my right. The church was a beautiful structure of symmetrical design with a cupola in the middle and towers on either side. Two sets of wide steps led up to its elaborate stone, three-arch entrance.

The boulevard was pretty, with an ample, tree-lined sidewalk. Several tall apartment buildings, a high school, and a few office buildings surrounded the church. Celina’s mate could be in any of those places. He might live in one of the units. He might be a teacher at the high school. Or maybe he was a lawyer or accountant at one of the office buildings. The possibilities were endless.

I enjoyed this part of tracking. It was easy, and I got to use all my senses. It could be time-consuming, but it relaxed me. Plus I liked people watching. If it ever became an Olympic sport, I would win a gold medal... or two.

Spotting a cement bench, I sat and prepared for my stakeout. I had snacks in my shoulder pack, a book in case I got bored, a few games on my phone, and a pad to jot down notes if needed.

I’d been sitting there ten minutes when the church bells started to toll. I counted and inhaled deeply, taking in all the scents that surrounded me. Mostly it was flowers, mulch, and pine straw. The area had fantastic curb appeal.

The sidewalks were fairly busy for the time of day. People walked up and down, going in and out of different buildings. Every time someone walked in front of me, my nose twitched as I took in their scent. A few of them gave me distrustful glances, probably thinking I had an overactive nose syndrome or something, but I was used to it.

In high school, a guy I refused to kiss because he always had cantaloupe breath—I hate melons in general—nicknamed me Slutty Bunny. He told everyone I was a lousy kisser, who wouldn’t stop twitching her nose while ramming my tongue down his throat. Gratefully, the nickname didn’t stick for more than a few weeks.

Five guys in suits, two of them quite good-looking, passed by, carrying briefcases and walking at a clipped pace. None of them had the scent I’d locked on during the trance. A group of kids in plaid uniforms sauntered down the sidewalk. I caught the scent of an array of perfumes from the girls, and weed and BO from the boys. Seriously, if they could afford a fancy high school, they could afford deodorant. Ew.

A strange, but pleasant scent hit me next. My eyes snapped toward its source. A Fae male dressed in supple leather pants, boots, and no shirt strolled by with the grace of a dancer. I blinked up at his matching yellow hair and eyes. His features were delicate and extremely beautiful. His ears were pointed, sticking through strands of straight hair. A rare sight to say the least. Fae preferred to stick to Elf-hame and were rarely seen in our neck of the woods. Maybe he needed an accountant to keep track of his gold. I snickered.

An hour later, I’d started to get restless, thinking about Rosalina, alone at the office, Stephen, Jake, and Tom, who was still at the hospital.

With a sigh, I dialed the agency. Rosalina answered right away and reassured me everything was okay. After that, I called the hospital to ask about Tom’s condition, but they wouldn’t give me any information because of stupid privacy regulations. I would have to go and find out personally.

I cursed under my breath, trying to refocus on my job. Normally, I could sit watching people for hours, but my mind kept wandering off. To help me pay better attention, I started playing a game I enjoyed: guessing strangers’ names, what they did, and where they worked.

For instance, the guy a few yards down the sidewalk... the one sweeping the church steps with his back to me. He wore all black—slacks and shirt—and had a cloud of dust around him that made my nose triple twitch. I pinched it to avoid sneezing and kept watching him. I got the feeling, judging by his clothes, that sweeping wasn’t his job, and maybe he had taken to the task as an excuse to be outside on this beautiful day. Unless I was way off, and he was some sort of emo janitor who went by the name of Thorn and wore heavy eyeliner.

The guy stamped his broom against the ground, set it aside, and walked away from the little pile of debris he’d gathered. Placing his hands on his hips, he faced the church and glanced up at its emerald-green