Page 81 of Grace of a Wolf 1
He nods gratefully, and I exit the bathroom to fetch a glass from the bedside table. When I return, he gulps it down like a man rescued from the desert.
It occurs to me her lips might have touched the same glass, and I suddenly want to rip his mouth off.
"The spell is active," he says after emptying the glass, and I stare at it for far too long, trying to seek evidence of where her lips might have touched. "My seekers are extensions of my consciousness. I'll know in real-time if they find a trace of her."
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, telling myself I can't hurt him. Yet. "And if they don't?"
"Then I'll need something stronger. Something with more of her essence."
There's that word again. My jaw tightens.
"Blood would be ideal," he continues, oblivious to my irritation. "But since we don't have that, I could try—"
He jerks upright, his eyes glazing over. "Found her. But it's strange. Everything's muddled."
Without conscious thought, my hand flies out and grabs the front of his shirt. "Where is she?"
"Hold on! Hold on, I'm—" He bats at my hand, his eyes still glazed. "She's to the north. There's too much interference. I have to…" His hands curve in the air, fingers wiggling as he does something I can't even begin to understand. "Gather. Yes. All of you—it needs to be concentrated… There. Okay. That's strange."
"What is it?"
My hand's still gripping his shirt, but Thom's out of his head, his eyes not seeing anything in this room. His hands keep moving around like he's orchestrating something, and I'm not sure he hears me. "Oh,that'swhy. That would make sense. Okay, I think I found her."
My eye twitches. "Where?"
"She's at a gas station."
Chapter forty-two
Grace: Lyre's Strange Behavior
When Lyre slides into the chair across from me, I lose track of the strange cat. It disappears as if it was never there at all.
"White?" Lyre asks between bites, completely unconcerned as I tell her about a bizarre cat only I can see.
"Yeah."
"Don't worry, it's harmless."
Andrew's out there now; I watch through the window as he sniffs the air, turning to shrug his shoulders at me through the glass. He must not smell anything.
Having a stalker is annoying, but hey, if he wants to brave the strange and mysterious for me, I'm not going to complain. If I have to suffer through his constant unwanted presence, I may as well get something out of it.
I nibble at a French fry, enjoying its salty potato goodness as I watch her eat. "What do you mean by 'harmless'?"
Lyre shrugs, her slitted eyes narrowing slightly as she takes another monstrous bite of her burger. Ketchup dots the corner of her mouth. "Exactly what the word means."
She's already halfway through her meal, and she's only been sitting here for a minute. My stomach growls in response, my appetite suddenly returning now that Lyre's here.
The burger's greasy and generic, but for some reason its flavor rivals the food the pack offers. Freedom is the best seasoning.
"Our plans are going to be messed up, though," she muses between chews, staring out the window. Andrew paces a few more times, nostrils flaring, before he heads back to the entrance, presumably to come back here.
"What do you mean?" Mustard gloops out the side of my burger, and I wipe at it with a napkin. It isn't that I dislike mustard, but too much of it is just… well, too much.
"It means what I said." Her tone borders on patronizing, as if I'm asking a stupid question.
I blink, waiting for elaboration that doesn't come.
