Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 70: Caine: Strange Magic

CAINE

To the unobservant eye, the house is exactly as Elizabeth says. Her home.

But it doesn’t take much effort to scratch at the lie.

Devoid of personal effects, lacking the clutter everyone’s living space acquired. Every piece of silverware is accounted for. There are no scratches on any of the cookware. Even the closets are eerily empty.

The cleaning supplies located under the kitchen sink are all brand new. There’s no bag in the trash can, and the box of replacements is unopened.

No vacuum. No broom.

Everything you’d consider a daily necessity of life is missing. There are extra sheets in the linen closet and a small stack of towels, as if this is a guest house, not a home.

The fading light casts long shadows across the room. Fenris’s hackles raise from his position by the door. He’s been tense since we arrived.

Me, too.

My phone vibrates against my thigh. Another message.

The screen illuminates with a photo—Grace, pale and vulnerable against hospital sheets. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, eyes closed, chest rising in shallow breaths. The rainbow-haired nuisance sits nearby, book in hand, watching over what’s mine.

I zoom in on Grace’s face with my thumb, tracing the curve of her cheek through the screen. A poor substitute for the real thing. The longing to touch her, to breathe in her unique blueberry scent claws at my chest.

Being apart is agony, growing worse with every hour.

"She’d be safer with me."

Fenris growls his agreement. If it wasn’t for the strangeness of this place, he would have run to the hospital, doing his damnedest to sneak in regardless of their position on animals.

I scroll through previous messages; it’s been hours since Lyre contacted me directly, leaving me reliant on the Fiddleback contact, a nurse at the hospital who sends photos like clockwork but offers no real information.

Of course, Grace is sleeping. There isn’t much to report. But it still rankles.

My jaw tightens. This arrangement is intolerable. Once I get Grace to Lycan territory, under my protection, surrounded by people I trust...

A hiccup breaks my concentration.

The wizard kneels before me, a pathetic sight with his trembling hands clenched atop bony knees. Thom keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow.

"Look at me when I speak to you." His groveling only makes my distaste for him grow.

Thom’s head jerks up, his glasses sliding down his nose. Behind the tinted lenses, his eyes hold a strange, foggy quality. The familiar, harsh scent of fear radiates off him like waves.

"Explain it again." I set my phone face-down beside me. "And this time, make sense."

"Y-yes, Your Majesty. Er, High Alpha." A full-body shudder runs through him. "There’s something interfering with the magical currents in this region."

"What kind of something?"

"I... cannot say, High Alpha. It’s old. And s-strange. Not natural." His voice cracks.

"Define strange."

"As I’ve explained before, magic has signatures. Textures. Like scent, for you." His hands shake, the knuckles turning pale, despite my reasonable attitude as I listen to his explanation for a second time. "Normal magic is clean. This is messy. Like a blurry photo. Or static."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "You said it was interfering with Grace’s location earlier."

Thom nods.

"But it’s stronger here?"

He nods again, his head jerking like a puppet. "It’s concentrated here. I thought it was s-strong near the c-campground, but..."

"Stop stuttering."

"Y-yes, High Alpha."

Rubbing at my eyebrow, I sigh. "And you don’t know what it could be? How do you know it’s old?"

"It just feels... old." The copper wires of his glasses catch the light as he swallows.

"Could it be some sort of trap?"

"No." For the first time, his voice carries conviction. "Not a spell. It’s older. A presence. Something which affects everything inside of its boundaries."

My nostrils flare, testing the air. All I smell is the stale emptiness of this staged house, the wizard’s fear-sweat, and a faint chemical tang clinging to the new furnishings, almost plastic.

"And this affects your tracking abilities how?"

"It’s like... trying to see through m-murky water." His fingers twitch, his confidence already gone. "Signals get lost. Distorted. When I tried to focus on your... on the girl, there was... interference."

"Her name is Grace."

"Uh. Yes. G-Grace." He pushes his glasses higher. "When I try to track her, something pushes back. It’s why I couldn’t get a clear location until we were practically on top of her."

My phone buzzes again. Another update. Same format. Different angle of the same scene—Grace sleeping, Lyre reading.

Even with these updates, I feel uneasy. Why is the rainbow-haired brat no longer messaging me?

She’s been silent since I left the area.

Does she really think she can get by with ignoring me?

My jaw tightens as I pick up my phone again. Enough of this silence. I swipe to Lyre’s contact and type out a message with more force than necessary.

[CAINE: Any medical updates on Grace? Real ones, not just photos.]

The message sits there, undelivered.

I rub at my eyebrow again, waiting. But she doesn’t read it, or respond.

The audacity of Grace’s little nuisance.

[CAINE: If anything changes with her condition, I expect to be informed immediately.]

Still nothing.

I slam the phone down beside me, causing Thom to flinch violently, nearly toppling backward.

"You’ll be joining us for the banquet tonight," I say absently, my mind still on Grace.

"M-me?" Thom’s voice cracks. "I don’t usually... I mean, I’m not typically invited to—"

"It wasn’t a request."

He swallows. "Y-yes, High Alpha."

Which brings me to another annoying issue: the Blue Mountain pup who dared to spirit my Grace away. He’s been tucked away upstairs since our arrival.

He can’t be left unsupervised.

I reach for the link I share with Jack-Eye. Our connection snaps into place immediately.

Bring Andrew to the banquet tonight. Keep him in your sight at all times.

A beat of silence, then Jack-Eye’s consciousness floods with irritation.

Seriously? Now? His mental voice sounds strained.

I frown.

Is there a problem with my order?

An exasperated groan fills my head. Can you stop interrupting at the most awkward fucking times?

I narrow my eyes, even though he can’t see me. What could possibly be so—

I’m fucking Elizabeth, what else would I be doing? The impatience in his voice is tangible. You’ve been inspecting every nook and cranny of this place for hours, and I needed to keep her out of the way.

The mental image accompanying his words is unwelcome and explicit.

Of course, had I not been distracted and thought about Jack-Eye’s disappearance even for a second, it would be obvious what his intentions were the moment he said he was looking for Elizabeth.

The man’s a beast, even for a Lycan.

My lip curls, and I can feel Fenris rumbling his disapproval as well. Remember who you’re speaking to.

Of course, High Alpha. My beta’s words drip with sarcasm, but there’s a note of contrition beneath it. I’ll collect the pup. Just give me a few minutes to... finish up.

Fine.