Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 90: Grace: Sanguimancers

Lyre’s voice cuts through his explanation, and she groans. Loudly. Rubbing at her forehead as she looks at the ceiling, her other hand propped onto her hip.

If I had to guess at her emotional state, it would be exasperated, but I’m not sure why.

"What?" I ask, tightening my grip on Bun instinctively.

"I forgot the cages," she says, smacking her palm against her forehead once. Then twice. "Damn it, I forgot about the cages."

Caine’s attention snaps to her. "What cages?"

"The facility where I found—ugh. It’s a long story. Look, the point is that there are cages underground. A lot of them. Filled with shifters." Lyre’s gaze flicks to Bun, then back to Caine. Her usual sarcasm has vanished entirely. "Some have children in them."

"You forgot about kidnapped people?" I blurt out, unable to process how anyone could forget something like that. Lyre’s strange, but she’s caring.

Her catlike eyes narrow at me. "I got some bad news. It was no longer a priority."

My heart flips a little.

The Lycan King has returned, all trace of the slightly warmer and marginally more approachable Caine gone as he asks, "Were they alive?"

"Yes. Mostly."

His face hardens. "Where? How many? Why are they there?"

"About ten miles to the northeast of here, there’s an abandoned industrial complex. Doesn’t look like much from the outside, but there are magical wards everywhere." Lyre’s eyes drift to Bun again, who has mercifully fallen quiet in my arms; she’s chewing on the collar of her onesie as she rhythmically kicks her foot out, content to sit where she is. "At least one was soulspliced. Shifters, most likely. Possibly some humans mixed in. They’ve been there a long time."

Owen sighs, and Sara lets out a little whimper. She looks horrified, but by the way her stare’s still glued in Caine’s direction, I’m not sure if she’s reacting to what Lyre’s saying or if she’s just... really convinced Caine’s going to eat her.

Jer, on the other hand, is ignoring all of us. He’s trying to get to the rest of the tanghulu, set out of his reach.

My heart constricts painfully. "We have to help them."

Jack-Eye steps forward, a hand already reaching for his phone. "I’ll coordinate a team. We can have wolves there within—"

He pauses, sharing a glance with Caine. The Lycan King shakes his head. "The closest are all still in Blue Mountain. It would be hours before they get here."

His beta sighs. "I told you we should have brought a few more with us."

"It’s better for them to keep an eye on the brat ruling there." Caine runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. He glances at me with a frown.

"We don’t need a rescue team," Lyre says calmly. "It’s just a retrieval."

"It’s better to be safe—"

"There’s no danger," she interrupts him. "I can vouch."

He frowns.

Owen clears his throat, and I’m impressed. He’s facing Lyre without shaking.

But then I follow the line of his gaze and realize he’s looking way over her head. She probably isn’t in his peripheral vision.

"I will go. If any soulspliced are alive..."

"I’m going too," I announce, starting to rise before remembering the toddler in my lap. The words come out of me without conscious thought; maybe I’m just swept up in the moment. Or maybe it’s the thought of another Bun-like child, trapped in a cage. Maybe without its mother. Family.

"Absolutely not," four voices ring out in unison, and I blink.

"You’re no help at all," Lyre says, and her gentle tone is at odds with her words.

"You’d be in the way," Owen agrees, his arms crossed over his chest.

Jack-Eye and Caine don’t have a follow-up. They’re just standing there like they expect me to follow their every word.

Which I will, because they’re all right. I have no business going around trying to save people. Even if I was completely recovered, I have no skill sets to help out. I’m not particularly strong or agile, and I don’t have magic like Lyre.

"Sorry. I know. I don’t know why I said it."

Jack-Eye frowns at me, then looks at his alpha. "You’re staying here, right?"

Caine’s jaw works as he considers, his gaze darting between Lyre and Owen, then back to me. "Yes. We can’t leave Grace without a guard. But keep me updated. Check in at least once an hour."

"Not every five minutes?" Lyre asks lightly, before pressing her lips together so tight they turn white. Her shoulders shake a little, though.

"I’m sure every hour will be adequate," his beta cuts in hastily. "Come, Madame Lyre. Please lead the way to the children."

* * *

The tension in the room shifts from panicked to purposeful as everyone begins organizing themselves. Owen steps away from the wall, his shoulders squared despite his obvious discomfort around Lyre.

"I might have a place to take any survivors," he says, his voice more confident than I’ve heard before. "But we should hurry. The sanguimancer—she’s dead?"

"For now," the rainbow-haired girl replies, making a vague gesture with her hand. "It will take her some time to recuperate."

"How long?"

"Years."

Owen’s so startled he actually looks right at her. "Years? You destroyed her vessel?"

A faint, one-shouldered shrug. "Is there any better way?"

"No." But he looks more afraid than ever as he leads them out of our safe little cave.

Even Caine looks taken aback, his eyebrows lifted slightly as he watches them leave. Bun shifts in my lap, chewing harder on her collar, oblivious to the atmosphere.

"What’s a sanguimancer?" Jack-Eye asks, and I lean forward to listen. "Are they dangerous?"

"She wasn’t particularly challenging—just annoying. They’re blood witches, in the crudest sense of the world. Their own or others’, it doesn’t matter. They use it to feed themselves, bind others to their will, cast nasty little spells..."

Her voice trails off, and I glance at Caine, who’s frowning. "Have you ever heard of sangwa.. Um, blood witches?" It’s a term I’ve never heard before.

He shakes his head. "No."

Lyre pops her head back in, just before the rock wall closes. "No touching. I mean it, Your Royal Blockheadedness."

"I heard you the first time," Caine growls.

"And yet I still don’t believe you’ll listen." Lyre’s slitted eyes narrow further. "I won’t be happy if I come back to find Grace unconscious again."

"Doomed," Sara whispers, still dramatically covering her face.