Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 217: Grace: Where’s Sadie (and the Cat)?

The yellowed paper suddenly feels... gross.

Blood?

Demi-God or not, I highly regret not bringing gloves along on this search. Hopefully said blood doesn’t transmit strange diseases.

And where the hell am I supposed to submit this thing? Does the App have a brick and mortar location? Business hours? A lab?

For one crazed second or thirty, I hold the paper to my phone, half-expecting it to disappear into the world of internet data and update my App.

Unsurprisingly, nothing happens.

"What are you doing?"

Cold, lemony breath blasts my ear and I jerk to the side in justifiably dramatic fashion, cringing my shoulder up to the side of my face to protect myself from Caeriel’s breathing.

My spine does its best to shrink back against my skin, equally revulsed by how close he is. "What are you doing?"

"Observing." Pale fingers pluck the paper from my hand, and he sniffs at it, his face too handsome for his creepy behavior. "How interesting. Good job."

How did he get in? I’m pretty sure Andrew would have followed him if it was through the front door. And when, precisely, did he arrive? I didn’t hear the telltale jingle.

Caeriel examines the small bit of blood-streaked paper like it’s truly some ancient artifact and not a possibly hazardous biosample, and I wonder if he can get any information just from sniffing at it... or if he’s just weird.

Honestly, I’m betting on weird.

I ask, even though I’m pretty sure he was, considering his

"Mhm."

"So you were here?"

course. It’s my

at the paper with a disdainful flick of my finger. "Then why is this even a mission? You probably could have sniffed it out in half a second, and it took me..." I’m not sure how long, but it was probably

hope my washer is still

arched eyebrow rising with them. His expression radiates condescension the

Grace Harper?" His voice has an annoying lilt, the kind where even a patient old grandma would want to smack him for his sass. "Perhaps battling a demon horde single-handedly? Stopping a dimensional rift

no need to bathe my ears in your sarcasm.

heroics, Miss Harper. We try to escalate our missions

to make me sound unreasonable. I was just trying to point out how inefficient and

But...

my

even if

the washers suddenly goes manic-high on a spin cycle, making

nothing. A piece of old paper

thoughtfully. The paper disappears somewhere into the folds of his ridiculously dramatic trenchcoat, and I wonder where his scythe is. Maybe it’s out auto-collecting the souls of lesser

never sounded so damn annoying in my entire life, "Why would a random demi-god’s blood sample be hidden away in an establishment catering to

questions me, sounding rather Socratic. Apparently Wash-N-Were was only fronting as a laundromat to

while I might not be thrilled over my assigned professor, I still have a mission

All the help.

So. Much. Help.

and most of them pulled out of fantasy books and battle-hungry animated shows, which means they all basically