Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 75: Lyre: Something Wicked This Way Comes (II)

LYRE

"You have no authority here, Echo Witch." Her eyes narrow, as she steps back. Her feet are bare, and blood squishes between her toes as she steps in a small puddle of it. "This territory is claimed, these creatures are bound, and you have no standing to interfere."

I release the suspended blood with a flick of my wrist, letting it splash to the ground in a wet slap. "Claimed? By whom, exactly? Last time I checked, America wasn’t your playground."

"America." She snorts, circling me with wary steps. "You speak as if you have some claim to it. Where have you been, Lyrielle? Over a century of silence, and now you appear with demands?"

"You don’t get answers, Isabeau." I scuff one of her blood sigils with the toe of my boot. The symbol sputters and shudders as its magic fractures. "Why here? Europe’s full of dark little corners better suited for your brand of rot."

Her laugh is like gravel dragged across concrete. It’s always been unpleasant—an ugly sound to match her uglier soul.

"Perhaps I wanted a taste of American hospitality. The wolves here are so... accommodating."

I grimace. I’m sure she ran here with her tail between her legs, looking for fresh meat. Fed until she could walk upright again.

Rebuilding her strength must’ve taken effort. Not that it’ll help her now.

"Mmm." Her tongue drags over too-sharp teeth. "Such enterprising creatures. Always chasing more—time, power, life. Is it really so monstrous to give them what they want?"

I suspected as much the moment I scented her stench on the wind outside town. Still, the confirmation annoys me.

If she’s been feeding off the local wolves for long, the stink’s probably sunk into the dirt by now. This is the problem with her kind. They don’t just corrupt people. They rot places.

nasty little claws have dug deep into this pack.

strength left in the old magic to help

problem stands in front of me now. She’s both their captor and their source of

the source of that

Well.

can’t pay with

blood sigil, each footfall deliberately placed to avoid the worst of the viscous

business model has evolved. Congratulations. You’ve gone from merchant to farmer. But even

a step for every one of mine. "Your jokes weren’t

I click my tongue. "You always

are you here, Lyrielle? Who are you working for this time? Fate? War? Pestilence? I haven’t caused any issue, have I? Why hunt me

I need orders to get

back to Europe, Isabeau." I keep my voice flat, bored even. "Do that, and I’ll let

her lips. I’ve seen it on a dozen faces she’s worn throughout the centuries. Different bodies, same

mockery curling at the edge of her vowels. "I’ve been here a long time, Lyrielle.

now. Her bloody footprints trail behind her like a

power." I blink, staring

with brain damage, or have you always been this stupid and

Her smirk falters.

crumpled steel door I kicked in. To the puddles of blood she

part of my entrance screamed ’depleted’ to you?" I ask. "The part where I tore through your defenses like wet paper, or the part where I disarmed