Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 184

184 Grace: Bad Luck

184 Grace: Bad Luck

His heavy steps pause, then he comes to stand beside me, frowning at Sadie.

I release a long breath and nod. “Right. Of course.”

It’s tempting to lean in.

I shake my head. “No.”

Caine’s voice startles me. I hadn’t noticed him leaning closer, his sharp gaze catching my screen. I exit the messages so fast I nearly drop my phone, feeling strangely like I’m cheating.

Flash flood warnings definitely sound like they would fall under a petty Wrath, right?

My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I stifle a groan. Probably another message from Wrath or Madness, begging me to explain how I got into their chat. I’ve been ignoring them for quite some time, but they haven’t given up.

“Fine,” I say, too quickly. His storm–gray eyes look unconvinced, and I backpedal. “I mean–Lyre just messaged. Says it might be hard to reach them for a while.”

Someone cranks the volume on the TV, drowning out the rain beating down on the RV’s thin roof.

I frown at the screen, trying to decide if I should be worried. I mean… it’s Lyre.

He doesn’t sound worried, which should reassure me. If anyone knows Jack–Eye’s habits, it’s him. And if anyone can handle themselves in a dangerous situation, it’s Lyre.

“You’ve been getting a lot of messages,” he observes, his eyes on my phone. He sounds… displeased.

Some of their storylines were not only convoluted, but disturbing. The worst was probably the semi–truck, a well–meaning, hard–working man, and the white sedan cheating on him with a red pickup truck.

I frown. “Were you expecting this?”

And Andrew’s weather app shows a familiar sight: a storm, ready to hit by midnight. There’s even a state of emergency announced by the human government.

184 Grace. Bad Luck

In the end, nine hours later, we’re exhausted but right at the edge of Blue Mountain territory, in a familiar Walmart parking lot.

The second half was spent listening to Jer and Sara play strange car games. It started with I Spy and ended with them using their hands as puppets and pretending to be the narrators of various cars‘ lives.

“Go potty!” didn’t work. “Go pee!” didn’t either. Nor any variation I could think of. She’s made it about two feet into the grass, still sniffing like her life depends on it.

It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s probably calling Jack–Eye.

“Come on, Sadie. Let’s go

inside.”

.

Heavy footsteps announce Caine’s return. He settles back beside me, a tiny bit closer than before. His arm stretches along the back of the couch, fingers just inches from my shoulder.

I should feel settled by this moment of calm, but Lyre’s message nags at me. I check my phone again. Still no response.

And Madness–well, a storm hunting people down certainly sounds like insanity to me. I nod slowly. Then again, he’s the Lycan King. His wolf appears out of thin air. Maybe these types of supernatural goings–on aren’t as strange for him as they are for me. But then she starts barking at something off to our left, at a row of parked cars.

He takes Sadie’s leash from me, careful not to let our fingers touch. “Strange has become normal these days.”

Huh.

Andrew should be the only one without a living being taking up space beside him, but both Sadie and the cat have elected to use him as a bed.

But Caine doesn’t know anything about Divinity Connect or the conversation I held with Lyre, much less my identity as an Anchor.

But then there’s the whole going–into–a–coma problem, and sanity prevails. For once. But more importantly…

No response. The message shows delivered but not read… again.

184 Grace: Bad Luck

[GRACE: Are you okay? What’s happening?]

“Yes.” He turns off the car without another comment, and doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as I am.

Stiffening, I slip it into my pocket. “Just spam.”

And cramped.

A black cat suddenly darts out from beneath a car and dashes away.

And yet he says simply, “Hard not to be after the first storm.”

His minor emergency becomes our new focus, the details of the storm pushed aside as the boy bounces impatiently in his seat.

The heavy storm passed with little fanfare or damage, as if mocking all of us for taking precautions–but another’s on its way by the next evening, as if chasing us down. If we only go the recommended miles, we’ll be stuck in the storm again.”

Incredibly cramped.

It’s sweet.

Was TV the secret to peace all along?

The moment Caine steps outside, I can feel the air change. Without looking back, I ask the question stewing in my head.

He’s quiet for a moment longer, processing. Then he rises from the couch, phone already in hand, and walks down the narrow hallway toward Lyre’s bedroom.

She was just texting me two seconds ago! 1

I shiver. Aren’t black cats bad luck?

He grunts, unsurprised. After all, crypticity (is that a word?) is her nature.

I point at Andrew’s screen, announcing severe thunderstorm warnings after ten p.m. “Didn’t we come this far to avoid this storm?”

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