Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 41: Caine: Tracking (II)

CAINE

We reach Grace’s door, and I pause, inhaling deeply. Her scent lingers, but it’s already growing fainter. She’s already been gone for two days, and the knowledge makes my blood simmer. I spent a day and a half going to the Forest Springs Pack and back for nothing; if this warlock doesn’t deliver results, the weak grasp I have on my sanity might slip after all.

"What about defensive spells?" The question surprises me as much as it does him.

Thom blinks rapidly. "I—well, I can ward off a bee."

So, useless.

The vague thought in my head to keep him around to protect her fades in an instant.

We wouldn’t have to worry about her safety if you’d charmed her a little. Would it have really killed you to smile at her even once? Maybe apologize for killing the man who was once her father?

My molars grind together. "Who was the one to rip out his throat, Fenris?"

At your order, he says. Don’t make me the same as you. She liked me. She doesn’t like you.

Knowing it’s true only makes the damn itch worse, and I slam Grace’s door open with a grunt. Her scent comes in a rush, and I inhale deeply.

The itch fades.

"Find what you need," I tell Thom. "But don’t touch anything more than necessary."

The warlock nods and steps inside, his eyes sweeping the space with professional interest. I remain in the doorway, arms folded, watching as he moves cautiously through the room that held her.

You still don’t see it, Fenris says.

his little comments only makes it worse,

now, you’re not going

Thom as he approaches the bed. He doesn’t reach for the sheets as I feared, but instead crouches down to peer at something

he murmurs, reaching under

object. A hair elastic. Simple and ordinary, yet my fingers itch to

strong on this," Thom says, examining the tiny band. "She used it recently,

track her

try. It’ll be stronger if I have something with a more significant genetic

say, nodding toward the

The bed is a mess, blankets kicked to the foot of the bed. There’s a pillow, but it

the sheets and blanket from her room and put them

don’t need to bring them; I’ll just sleep

second. If she’s within five hundred miles, I should be able to pinpoint her

prickling sensation crawling

only a few steps to the

moving in rapid succession as he mumbles in a strange language. It

from nowhere. The bathroom mirror

burst into existence around his head. Translucent wings glow with an unnatural light as they flutter in

to claw at them. Magic always has

voice and splays his hands outward. The butterflies shoot away as if propelled by an invisible force, zooming in twenty different directions; they pass straight through the walls, leaving no trace of

sink. His breath comes in ragged gasps, sweat beading on his pale forehead and dripping down his temples. The entire display has left him looking like he’s

neck, where the itching is most intense. "How

with effort, adjusting those ridiculous glasses. "Just a few minutes, High Alpha." His voice sounds raspy, drained. "My seekers will find her if she’s

over, noting how his hand trembles against the counter. His face has flushed an alarming shade of red, and the vein in

against magic-users pointless. Look at him—a dozen flying paper weights and he needs