Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 105: Lyre: Time-Locked

LYRE

The trail’s not cold. It’s frigid. Cryogenically sealed in regret and futility.

I knew this place would be empty before we even turned onto the access road, but thoroughness is one of the many lessons learned over agonizing centuries. It means checking every lead, even the ones that reek of wasted time.

Better to knock out the possibilities now, before they come back to spirit you into another dimension for three weeks, four days, seventeen hours and eleven minutes.

Those are memories I’d rather not revisit. Or experience again.

Jack-Eye gets out first, stretches his long frame like he’s been folded into an origami wolf for too long. The others follow. And me? I’m too irritated to even open the damn door.

I already know what’s inside.

Tapping my fingers against the steering wheel, I stare at the front door, wondering exactly how hard the restrictions would hit if I went on a rampage here.

It’s tempting. Oh, so fucking tempting.

But being without power while trying to chase down the asshole trying to reanimate Isabeau would be a stupid decision, so I have to calm down before I lose my shit.

Deep breath.

Meditation was never my strong suit. Too impulsive, too fiery, too much

—the excuses are endless, but it all boils down to the same basic issue. It doesn’t fit with my personality.

Still, I borrow from it a little to cool the rage flowing in my blood.

Deep, deep, deep breath.

Gotta do it in the car, because sucking in a lung full of death and bloody arcana’s only going to raise my blood pressure more.

Finally centered and in control once again, I slip out of the car, pretending like nothing awful’s about to happen.

straightening his shoulders as he scents

Well. That’s unexpected.

human half still maintains some functional instincts. Huh. Good to see he’s still functional, even when he’s

He’s an alpha-level Lycan, which means he has the right to challenge Caine for his throne.

Dumbass makes

but it’s still strange and wrong to my senses. The rot stench hangs in the

as if we stumbled onto a loody crime scene wiped free

A deliberately manufactured void.

My stomach clenches.

that festering parasite, left grime and residue behind.

This? This is nothing.

This is Reaper-level sanitization.

an

my hand, feeling the familiar pattern of a time-anchor spell forming beneath my skin. Arcana flows from my fingers to the air

dings. Right

I’m not letting these idiots stumble into a Reaper’s path. I’m the one who brought them

asks, and I can feel the anger simmering beneath

some

of course. They’d never allow something so pedestrian as a

To Jack-Eye and the others, nothing has changed. They’re frozen in place,

of suspended time. Colors fade just slightly. Sound dampens. All momentum bleeds away into perfect stillness, like I’ve closed a snow globe around us and sealed it

and I fight the urge to roll my

reflecting everything and absorbing nothing. He’s wearing the ridiculous uniform they

I guess they could use it in a battle against divinity, but those are all strictly regulated, thanks the rules

using those for balance, I see,"

smile, but it doesn’t disturb a single muscle in his face. Creepy to humans, normal to those of us who were raised with these assholes. "We

playing around. Why are you here so early? There’s a reason,

three centuries ago, which is none. Monotone bastard.

do than play cryptic bullshit bingo with you. Burn the shed, raze the evidence, do whatever administrative ass-covering you need to do. But I’m not stopping, and you can’t make me.