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.

little comments only makes it worse,

now, you’re not

bed. He doesn’t reach for the sheets as

might work," he murmurs, reaching under

Simple and ordinary, yet my fingers itch to grab

is strong on this," Thom says, examining the tiny band. "She used it recently, probably to tie her

you track her with

"I can try. It’ll be stronger if I have something with a more significant genetic trace, though. Hair with follicles attached would be

toward the en-suite.

room. The bed is a mess, blankets kicked to the foot of the bed. There’s a pillow, but it doesn’t smell

Bring the sheets and blanket from her room and put them

them; I’ll just

Thom calls out from the bathroom. "Give me just a second. If she’s within five hundred miles, I should be able to pinpoint her

crawling up my

only a few steps to

His eyes are closed, lips moving in rapid succession as he mumbles in a

from nowhere. The bathroom mirror fogs, then

light

sensation crawling across my skin like ants. I resist the urge to claw at them. Magic always has this effect on me; it’s one of the reasons I avoid

the same white as the butterflies. He barks a final word in his screechy voice and splays his hands outward. The butterflies shoot away as if propelled by an invisible force, zooming in twenty different directions; they pass

slumps forward, catching himself on the edge of the sink. His breath comes in ragged gasps, sweat beading on his pale forehead and dripping down his temples. The entire display has left him

the

High Alpha." His voice sounds raspy, drained. "My seekers will find

shade of red, and the vein in his

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