Harry moved closer and slipped an arm gently around her waist. The fury that had been riding him seemed to slip away, and he looked tired and grim, but determined.
"He's alive, Dinah. I know it."
His eyes trailed her wounded arm for a moment, then Harry shook off the last bit of his anger.
"D... one of my scouts spotted a boy that looked something like Jake. I've got a dozen... a dozen more combing over the City with the new description. It's not much, but it's something." He didn't mention yet that they were pixies. Faerie. The Little Folk. Always underestimated, always underfoot. Harry had been bribing them for years with pizza.
He still hadn't told anyone about his housekeeping service. If faeries were cleaning your house, you had to keep it a secret. Otherwise, they went away. Harry certainly didn't make the rules, but he'd follow them if it meant he didn't have to clean up himself.
The pixie scout hadn't been able to get a hair from the boy, since the strands had been too short. But that's all the pixie had said. The young thing had been trembling, scared by whatever it was she'd seen. Harry hadn't pressed, knowing how careful a mortal had to be when dealing with the fae, but then he'd heard Dinah's message and left the pixie back home with a doughnut bribe.