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.

me when I speak to you." His groveling only makes my distaste

jerks up, his glasses sliding down his nose. Behind the tinted lenses, his eyes hold a strange,

it again." I set my phone face-down beside

Er, High Alpha." A full-body shudder runs through him. "There’s something interfering with the magical

"What kind of something?"

High Alpha. It’s old. And s-strange. Not natural." His

"Define strange."

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 messy. Like a blurry

resting my elbows on my knees. "You said it

Thom nods.

"But it’s stronger here?"

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

"Stop stuttering."

"Y-yes, High Alpha."

sigh. "And you don’t know what it could be? How

of his glasses catch the

be some sort

spell. It’s older. A presence. Something which affects everything inside

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

your tracking

water." His fingers twitch, his confidence already gone. "Signals get lost. Distorted. When I tried to focus

"Her name is Grace."

track her, something pushes back. It’s why

Different angle of the same scene—Grace

uneasy. Why is the rainbow-haired brat no longer messaging

been silent since I left

she really think she can

my phone again. Enough of this silence. I swipe to Lyre’s contact and type out a message with

updates on Grace?

message sits

again, waiting. But she doesn’t read

audacity of

condition, I expect to

Still nothing.

phone down beside me, causing Thom