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.

His

lenses, his eyes

face-down beside

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

"What kind of something?"

cannot say, High Alpha. It’s old. And s-strange. Not natural." His voice

"Define strange."

magic 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 time. "Normal magic is clean. This is

elbows on my knees. "You said it

Thom nods.

"But it’s stronger here?"

puppet. "It’s concentrated here. I thought it was s-strong near the c-campground,

"Stop stuttering."

"Y-yes, High Alpha."

my eyebrow, I sigh. "And you don’t know what it

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

be some

first time, his voice carries conviction. "Not a spell. It’s older. A presence.

stale emptiness of this staged house, the wizard’s fear-sweat, and

your tracking abilities

gone. "Signals get lost. Distorted. When I tried to focus on your... on the girl, there

"Her name is Grace."

G-Grace." He pushes his glasses higher. "When I try to track her, something pushes back. It’s why I couldn’t get a clear location until we were practically on top

phone buzzes again. Another update. Same format. Different angle of the

with these updates, I feel uneasy. Why

since I left

really think she can get by with

pick up my phone again. Enough of this silence. I

on Grace? Real

sits

at my eyebrow again, waiting. But she doesn’t read it, or

audacity of Grace’s

If anything changes with her condition, I

Still nothing.

causing Thom to flinch violently, nearly toppling