Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 217

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,


"Mhm."

"So you were here?"

It’s

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

hope my washer is still on the

eyebrow rising with them. His expression radiates condescension the way

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

I’m weak, no need to

mission involves heroics, Miss Harper. We try

I was just trying to point out how inefficient and stupid the mission was, and he’s turned me

But...

my

aside, his logic is logical, even if


the washers suddenly goes manic-high on a

find essentially nothing. A piece of old paper isn’t exactly the stuff of

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

damn annoying in my entire life, "Why would a random demi-god’s blood sample

he questions me, sounding rather Socratic. Apparently Wash-N-Were was only

thrilled over my assigned professor, I still have a mission to complete and I

All the help.

So. Much. Help.

it over. Demi-god blood in a shifter laundromat does seem... odd. My mind races through possibilities, none of them comforting, and most of them pulled out of fantasy books

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