Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 70: Caine: Strange Magic

CAINE

To the unobservant eye, the house is exactly as Elizabeth says. Her home.

But it doesn’t take much effort to scratch at the lie.

Devoid of personal effects, lacking the clutter everyone’s living space acquired. Every piece of silverware is accounted for. There are no scratches on any of the cookware. Even the closets are eerily empty.

The cleaning supplies located under the kitchen sink are all brand new. There’s no bag in the trash can, and the box of replacements is unopened.

No vacuum. No broom.

Everything you’d consider a daily necessity of life is missing. There are extra sheets in the linen closet and a small stack of towels, as if this is a guest house, not a home.

The fading light casts long shadows across the room. Fenris’s hackles raise from his position by the door. He’s been tense since we arrived.

Me, too.

My phone vibrates against my thigh. Another message.

The screen illuminates with a photo—Grace, pale and vulnerable against hospital sheets. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, eyes closed, chest rising in shallow breaths. The rainbow-haired nuisance sits nearby, book in hand, watching over what’s mine.

I zoom in on Grace’s face with my thumb, tracing the curve of her cheek through the screen. A poor substitute for the real thing. The longing to touch her, to breathe in her unique blueberry scent claws at my chest.

Being apart is agony, growing worse with every hour.

"She’d be safer with me."

Fenris growls his agreement. If it wasn’t for the strangeness of this place, he would have run to the hospital, doing his damnedest to sneak in regardless of their position on animals.

I scroll through previous messages; it’s been hours since Lyre contacted me directly, leaving me reliant on the Fiddleback contact, a nurse at the hospital who sends photos like clockwork but offers no real information.

Of course, Grace is sleeping. There isn’t much to report. But it still rankles.

My jaw tightens. This arrangement is intolerable. Once I get Grace to Lycan territory, under my protection, surrounded by people I trust...

A hiccup breaks my concentration.

The wizard kneels before me, a pathetic sight with his trembling hands clenched atop bony knees. Thom keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow.

I speak to you." His groveling only makes my

nose. Behind the tinted lenses, his eyes hold a strange, foggy quality. The familiar, harsh scent of

I set my phone face-down beside me. "And

Alpha." A full-body shudder runs through him. "There’s something interfering

"What kind of something?"

old. And s-strange. Not natural."

"Define strange."

has signatures. Textures. Like scent, for you." His hands shake, the knuckles turning pale, despite my reasonable attitude as I listen to his explanation for a second

on my knees. "You

Thom nods.

"But it’s stronger here?"

head jerking like a puppet. "It’s concentrated here. I

"Stop stuttering."

"Y-yes, High Alpha."

don’t know what it could

just feels... old." The copper wires of his glasses catch the light as

be some

"Not a spell.

air. All I smell is the stale emptiness of this staged house, the wizard’s fear-sweat, and a faint chemical tang clinging to the new furnishings,

your tracking abilities

fingers twitch, his confidence already gone. "Signals get lost. Distorted.

"Her name is Grace."

glasses higher. "When I try to track her, something pushes back. It’s why I couldn’t

again. Another update. Same format. Different

I feel uneasy. Why is the rainbow-haired brat no longer

been silent since I

she can get by with ignoring

up my phone again. Enough of this silence. I swipe to Lyre’s

on Grace? Real ones, not

sits there,

rub at my eyebrow again, waiting. But she doesn’t

audacity of Grace’s little

If anything changes with her condition, I expect to be informed

Still nothing.

beside me, causing Thom to flinch violently, nearly toppling