Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 156: Lyre: Assigned Missions

LYRE

Thankfully, Grace seems to have a natural affinity for arcana manipulation. It might seem as if it would be natural with her being an Anchor, but... surprisingly, it isn’t always.

I frown at my phone. No Plausibility warnings yet—which is suspicious in itself. My screen glows with a stomach-sinking alert.

It isn’t like I didn’t know it was coming, but still...

[ASSIGNED MISSION: Neutralize detected agent of Chaos in Region 23-BETA.]

The alert is region-wide, meaning Owen’s probably got the same message burning a hole in his pocket. At least he’s competent.

"What’s this?" Grace is staring at her own phone with a frown. When she sees me looking at her, she turns the screen toward me. "What does this mean, Lyre? It’s from that app."

The familiar interface of the Divinity App glows back at me. And a mission.

But this one is different.

[ASSIGNED MISSION: Investigate disturbance in Region 20-L. Locate and secure compromised artifacts. Report findings.]

Region 20-L. Blue Mountain territory. Grace’s old pack, and the same place she was running from.

"Let me see that." I snatch the phone, scanning for details. Grace is nowhere near ready for field assignments. She’s barely grasped the barest concept of her own power, for fuck’s sake.

Then my eyes land on the bottom of the screen. noveldrama

[Temporary Guardianship Assigned By: Reaper Caeriel]

"That son of a bitch!" The words explode from me before I can stop them.

The camper shudders violently, dishes rattling in the cupboards. A few books tumble from their shelf. Grace yelps as her coffee cup slides across the table, grabbing it just before it tips over the edge.

"Earthquake? Do we even get earthquakes here?!"

I force my breathing to slow, pushing my rage back into the box where I keep all my other inconvenient emotions. "No. Not an earthquake."

That overdressed, obsessive bastard. Caeriel knows exactly what he’s doing. Assigning guardianship of an untrained Anchor without consultation? Sending her back to the place she just escaped?!

He’s trying to corner me, force my hand. And the worst part is I can’t follow her there—I’m bound by my own mission parameters.

Fuck!

Before I can explain anything to Grace, the door’s yanked open. Caine fills the doorframe, wild-eyed and bristling with protective fury.

"What the hell was that?" he demands, eyes darting between us. "Grace, are you—"

No. No wolves in this conversation.

With a sharp gesture, I send a blast of concentrated air that catches him square in the chest, propelling him backward out the door. Another flick of my wrist slams it shut, and I engage every magical lock I’ve built into this camper.

The banging starts immediately. "Lyre! Open this goddamn door!"

I turn to Grace, who looks torn between shock and wanting to let him in. "Listen to me very carefully." I keep my voice deadly serious, and she jerks her eyes away from the door to meet mine. "Caine cannot know about the app. Not now, not ever."

"But why—"

"He won’t even be able to see it. The interface is perception-filtered. If you start talking about missions and divinities, he’ll think you’ve lost your mind." I lean closer. "And if you push it, if you try to force him to see what he can’t, the system will auto-correct the plausibility breach."

Grace’s eyebrows draw together. "What does that mean?"

"It means reality will shift to maintain coherence. And those shifts are rarely gentle." The banging on the door grows more insistent. "I don’t like telling you to keep secrets, especially from him. But this is beyond either of us."

The weight of what I’m asking settles on her face. She nods slowly, reluctantly, as Caine continues his assault on my door.

"What is this mission, then? What am I supposed to do?" Grace asks, her voice steadier than I would have expected from someone who just had a mini-meltdown over learning she could control gods.

A sour taste fills my mouth as I mutter, "You need to go back to your old pack. To Blue Mountain." The words feel like betrayal coming from my lips, and I don’t like it. "Find out what’s been compromised there."

"Go back? There?!" Her voice goes up into a half-shriek; I can’t blame her.

I clench my jaw. "And I can’t go with you. I’m pinned here by my own assignment. Different regions."

If I get it done quickly...

But Chaos is such a fucking pain in the ass. There’s no way I’m going to find his agent on the first try.

Damn it.

"But I don’t—I can’t—" Grace stammers, panic rising in her eyes. "They don’t want me there. And I don’t know what I’m looking for or how to—"

"You’ll figure it out. The app will help." I run a hand through my hair with a grimace. This is not how I expected today to go. I was hoping to grab the Sleeping Beauty of a wizard and force him to track our prey down.

What was even the point of filling him with arcana if this stupid fucking mission is in the way?

This is exactly why I tried to stay away from this damn app and its headaches.

"Fuck Chaos right in his cosmic eye socket. If that pretentious divinity hadn’t made direct contact with you, we wouldn’t be in this mess."

The noise at the door grows more threatening. I hear Fenris’s deep, warning growl join Caine’s demands. The kids are shouting, too, and Grace doesn’t like it. Her hands keep fluttering over the table as she looks at the door.

A snap of my finger brings blessed quiet.

Don’t worry; they’re still outside banging and yelling away. But now at least Grace can’t hear it.

"Will they hurt me if I go back?" she asks quietly, and something in my chest twists at the fear in her voice. Doesn’t she realize she has the Lycan King behind her?

We need to work on her confidence.

"Maybe, but your boyfriend will be with you. And if you say Rafe one more time—"

Grace frowns at me. "Why would I bring up Rafe?"

My mouth closes. Every time I say anything about her boyfriend, she would bring up the annoying and mysterious Rafe. It looks like Caine’s finally eclipsed her ex-boyfriend’s existence in her head.

Good for him. What a useful canine.

But the girl still looks worried.

"You have power now, Grace. More than you even understand. You’ll be okay."

I hope.

If Caeriel lets her get hurt...

My eyes darken. I’ll have to send him a warning, but it’s probably what he’s waiting on. Fucking pervert.

Her eyes flicker down to the phone, to the notification there. It won’t go away until the mission is completed, one way or another. "How long will I be gone?"

"Not long, if you’re efficient." I check my own mission parameters again, but they haven’t changed. "I’ll try to wrap mine up quickly. Then I’ll find you. Take the camper with you. I assume you’ll be bringing the children?"

Grace bites her lip and nods, but she looks... worried. Her eyes dart back down to the phone, then toward the silently vibrating door. All that panic bottled up—it’s like watching a teacup trying to hold a thunderstorm. A tiny, chipped cup without any pairs.

I reach over and rub the top of her head, channeling a thin stream of arcana through my fingertips. The golden energy shivers through the blonde strands, invisible to anyone who can’t see magic. Which is most people.

I’m not Grace. I don’t have her gift for calming souls and steadying chaos, but I’m not completely useless at comfort.

Just mostly useless at it.

Emotions have never been my strong point. I’ve had them hammered into me by sheer force of centuries of time spent among humans, but there’s a reason divinities stay removed from the lives of mortals.

Emotions aren’t as temporary as their lives.

"Don’t worry. The App never assigns missions you can’t handle."

I’m lying.

Oh, it’s true in theory, but the App’s idea of "can handle" usually involves a generous helping of trauma, terror, and narrowly avoided death. Or not avoided at all.

Their standards are absurdly high. Divinity doesn’t waste resources on failures; they just send people likely to succeed, with an acceptable casualty rate of—well, I try not to think about it.

But Grace doesn’t need to hear this. She’s already vibrating with anxiety, and I don’t need her hyperventilating. Caine already wants to rip me apart for keeping him away from his mate.

Though it’s good he’s here; he can keep her safe in my stead. And if he fails, I’ll just rip him apart. Another widescale shifter war is an acceptable price.

I check my phone again, scanning once again to see if any additional details have been added for the mission.

Nope.

Just the maddening command: Neutralize detected agent of Chaos.

As if that’s so fucking easy.

I sigh, slipping the phone into my pocket. "Make sure you don’t go under any low-hanging bridges."

Grace’s eyes widen slightly. "Trolls?" she asks, voice tight with a new fear. "Do I need to worry about trolls now too?"

I stare at her, feeling my face settle into the exasperated expression I reserve for humans, werewolves, and most things with a pulse. Seven hundred years and still nothing surprises me like the mortal capacity to fixate on the wrong damn thing.

It’s a good thing she’s cute.

It’s no wonder humans like to raise pets.

"No, Grace. You’ll sheer off the roof of my home if you do."