Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 112: Lyre: Rest

My phone buzzes in the console tray just as I notice Jack-Eye has finally shut up. He’s slumped in the passenger seat with his arm half-covering his face, probably thinking I can’t tell he’s still awake. His breathing isn’t even close to sleep rhythm.

I glance down at the notification, swiping to read Grace’s message.

[GRACE: Made it to the spot. We’re alive. Also... no water...]

I swipe a quick reply.

[LYRE: Why didn’t you fill the tank before you left? Fresh water tank connection’s right next to the city water.]

[GRACE: Uhhhhh... oops?]

A snort escapes before I can stop it. Endearing little disaster. At least she’s safe for now.

The truck hits a pothole the size of a small child, and Jack-Eye’s head jolts up. He groans, reaching for the dashboard to steady himself. "Could you not text and drive?"

"We’ve all got to live dangerously sometime." I toss my phone back into the console tray. "Besides, vampires text and fly all the time. I’m practically a safety expert by comparison."

In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of Thom’s panicked expression. He’s seated in the middle, between Owen and Andrew—both sleeping—and he has nowhere to grab for safety. He was probably asleep until the pothole, too.

Humans and their pitiful need for rest. Not that I’m immune. Even my energy has limits. Mine just don’t come as quickly as theirs.

A flickering vacancy sign appears in the distance—some questionable roadside establishment. It probably hasn’t seen fresh sheets since the Reagan administration and the carpet inside likely smells like despair and decades of poor life choices. Someone’s definitely selling bodies in this place. Not dead ones, obviously.

Grace and Caine are far enough from Fiddleback’s immediate zone now. They’re safe enough to allow myself a few degrees of relief, and maybe grant these pitiful tagalongs some rest.

Especially the wizard.

shady motel’s parking lot, ignoring Jack-Eye’s confused

5-gallon Aquatainers.

carry potable water. We’d normally have a full tank of fresh water, but it’s been

fact she remembered enough to get the trailer

You’re a goddess. A terrifying, beautiful goddess. I love you. I’ll think of

go fast. Either have Caine fill up the jugs in town or wait until we’re back and use the water sparingly. Don’t forget there’s bottled water for

sends a thumbs-up emoji in

twist in my seat to get a better look at Thom. His aura is flickering like a dying flashlight, dim around the edges. Pathetic. Even with the kiss I gave him—an energy transfer most wizards would kill for—he’s running

well," I mutter, mostly to myself. The boy can’t regulate his arcana circulation for shit. Typical of

engine. "We’re stopping for the

straightens. "You’re getting your

eyes. "I’m not wasting money. I’ll just get

me like I’ve suggested

backseat, blinking his unsettling silver eyes. Even half-asleep, his voice

believes in the old legends about my kind. As if I’d burn the sheets or something. Or

concede, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. "Two rooms,

the backseat. "The

with you." Jack-Eye

guess he woke

me, genuine surprise breaking through my usual composure. My brows knit as I study his expression. The wolf looks oddly... determined.

I begin,

no argument, though

to make it clear I’m choosing to acquiesce, not being commanded. Then I glance back at Thom, who looks horribly dejected—like someone just told him Christmas is canceled.