Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 216: Grace: Inside the Wash-N-Were

Inside the Wash-N-Were, several machines are in use, but no one’s inside.

A little strange, I suppose, but it isn’t uncommon for shifters to go for a little run while they wait for cycles to finish.

Still, it’s creepy to be in an empty laundromat.

Thankfully, Andrew’s staying in the car, though the animals are determined to follow me inside.

Sadie prowls around, sniffing every inch of floor as her fluffy tail swishes back and forth.

The white cat—still nameless, despite the many suggestions ranging from "Snowball" to "Death Claw"—jumps from machine to machine with effortless grace before settling on top of a washer mid-spin cycle. It curls into a comfortable ball, eyes half-closed, clearly preparing to sleep.

Super fucking helpful. A part of me had kind of assumed these two strange animals-but-clearly-more-than-just-animal-beings would be a little more help with the way they tagged along against my will, but nope.

Just a mundane cat and a mundane dog, doing shit-fuck for my mission.

Ignoring them both, I take the time to do the most pressing assignment: shoving our disgusting laundry into three separate machines. Thankfully, Wash-N-Were has detergent provided for those of us who forget to bring it (or don’t know where Lyre has it stashed).

Coins clank as I feed them into the slots, and the washers rumble to life, blending into the sounds of already-running machines.

I glance out the window. Andrew’s still in his car, head down, probably scrolling through his phone.

His loyalty’s welcome, but confusing. He was Rafe’s shadow, his wingman, for years. I’m tentatively positive he’s a safe ally, but it still just seems... strange.

Loyalties can’t change so easily, can they?

Or were they never as close as I thought they were?

I have a quest, like I’m some sort of video game character, but with less

feels heavy in my pocket. I pull it out and open the Divinity

Something.

Anything.

notification. A

text about a 20% off sale for diabetic supplies. I

the spam text with fierce prejudice, I glance around the

hell am I looking for? A magical sword hidden in a dryer? A cursed amulet taped under a folding table? A haunted sock magnet that gathers missing socks from every washer and dryer in the

Who fucking knows.

explaining how to use them. Rows of washers and dryers line both walls and a few folding tables stand

a small alcove with vending machines and

me what I’m looking for, I’ll have to search

the vending machines. The bulletin board is a chaotic collage of cards—lawn care services

the edges of the board, feeling for anything

Nothing.

all I find

open anyway. The lights flicker on automatically, revealing a single toilet, sink, and a small trash can. I check under

Empty.

moved to the far corner, her nose pressed against the baseboards, tail straight as an arrow. The cat hasn’t moved, still

hints?" I ask

me, intent on whatever she’s

The cat’s ear twitches.

move methodically down the row of washers and dryers, opening doors and peering into empty drums. As expected, there are no magic swords—or socks—to

a speck

behind it. There’s a slight discoloration, a rectangular patch about the size of a sheet of paper that looks newer than

a better look. It could be nothing—maybe they patched a hole, or hung something there that was later removed. But in my new life of supernatural weirdness,