After checking my phone, where a new mission has not appeared despite Caeriel saying it did, I glance up…
And he's gone.
What the hell.
My eyebrows twitch with irritation, but mostly I'm just grateful the creepy reaper vanished. One second he's all looming condescension, the next—poof. Supernatural beings must get off on dramatic exits.
My phone buzzes in my hand, the screen lighting up with a notification. Well, would you look at that. The mission he promised has finally materialized.
But the contents are… strange.
[ASSIGNED MISSION: 20-L.fnd-dgID.0039]
So helpful.
I didn't think I'd miss Caeriel, but now I do. Maybe he'd explain what the fuck this ans. It looks like so sort of error in the code instead of a proper mission.
Staring at it isn't going to help decode it any faster, though, so I shove my phone in my pocket, resolving to wait for ten minutes to see if so sort of update gets pushed through the app.
I scan the laundromat absently, going still when I see Sadie once again sniffing in the corner and the cat sleeping on the sa washer it was before.
What the hell, what the hell, what the hell. Caeriel said they were gone giving reports, but now they're back in the exact sa positions they were the last ti I looked at them?
Creep ter has maxed, Grace Harper.exe needs to restart, this is getting too fucking weird.
(Fine. It was funnier in my head.)
Neither seems particularly disturbed by the fact Caeriel was just here.
Fine. Let's rip the mask of these fake pets and start over.
I march across the worn linoleum floor toward Sadie, arms crossed over my chest. The golden retriever continues her intense investigation of whatever fascinating sll she's found.
"I know you can understand ," I announce, keeping my voice flat so it doesn't betray my annoyance. "What the hell are you?"
The golden retriever's head whips around at the sound of my voice. She abandons her sniffing expedition imdiately, her entire deanor transforming into quintessential dog joy. Her tail wags so hard her butt swings with it. Big brown eyes lock onto mine with what appears to be pure, innocent adoration.
Convincing as hell, but we all know better now, don't we?
I narrow my eyes, not buying the act for a second. "I know you aren't a dog. Spill."
Sadie's response is to crank the excited puppy routine to eleven. Her entire body wiggles with enthusiastic tail-wagging before launching at , her front paws landing on my shoulders as she tries to lick my face with sloppy devotion.
"Ugh!" I shove her off, wiping dog slobber from my cheek. "Gross." Even worse knowing she isn't really a dog.
Sadie lands on all fours, looking suprely pleased with herself. Her tail continues its trono-like sweep. If dogs could smile, she'd be grinning from ear to floppy ear.
Whatever she is, she's holding onto her secrets hard.
But she doesn't seem out to hurt .
"Fine. Play dumb." I wipe my hands on my jeans. "But I'm onto you."
The dog tilts her head, one ear flopping over in what has to be a calculated move of cuteness. I'm not falling for it.
I check my phone again, examining the new mission notification, but it's as glitched out as it was a few minutes ago.
Fine. Another five minutes, then I'll try wracking my brain to figure it out.
anwhile…
Sadie might not be willing to spill her secrets, but there's always the cat.
Eyes on my new prey, I stalk across the laundromat to grab it by its scruff. It's too heavy to dangle in the air, so I just lift its front half off the washer to ask harshly, "Whatever you are, take your true form and explain it to ."
The cat yawns, showing needle-like white teeth, then blinks big blue eyes at like I'm stupid.
Sadie barks from behind , and I can feel her butt-wagging joy even without looking.
"Co on. I already know you disappeared to send in a report. What are you? Who are you reporting to?"
Shaking the cat a little and trying not to feel like an animal abuser does little to bring forward movent to my interrogation.
The cat just half-dangles there in my grip, purring as it continues to stare at with innocent blue eyes.
Hah.
"I'm warning you, if either of you bring trouble to or the kids…"
"Miss Grace Harper, there you are!"
The door jingles to accompany an old man's voice, and Andrew piles into the laundromat behind him, saying, "Grace, it looks like the king sent one of his lackeys to watch over you."
The old Lycan turns to frown at Andrew, who squares his shoulders and stares back. They both block the door rudely, though it isn't like anyone's queued outside to barge in behind them.
I look at the old man suspiciously; he's one of the Lycans who ca to the camper with Caine, too. He didn't seem as friendly as Raymond—no. Rodney? Fuck. He'd just corrected on his na twice, and I've already forgotten it.
Whatever. The point is, this new guy isn't nearly as open-minded as Super Nanny, and I stiffen a little as he looks over, like he's judging in his head. Then he barks, "I was trying to find you so you didn't have to walk here."
If you could emoticon in real life, I'd definitely have question marks above my head. Alas, you can't.
So I just stare at him blankly instead.
Sorry, is that my problem…? But I don't quite have the bravery levels required to say it out loud. The man's intimidating, with his weathered, scarred face. And, while I have about ninety-seven percent faith Andrew will try to protect if he cos after like the crazy one from earlier, I have about ten percent faith he'd win.
With all the math mathed out, I'm pretty sure my best bet is to not get on this guy's nerves. So I give a slightly confused smile instead.
I made the decision to beco Caeriel's bootlicker to survive; may as well do the sa with the weird Lycans Caine chooses to keep … questionably safe.
"I already found her," Andrew points out.
He snorts. "I have eyes, kid."
Mm, yes, this is going swimmingly. Both n are here to keep safe and yet they're at odds. We should be united against the common enemy, but first I have to work on not also being the enemy.
So I say, "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. I'm sorry, had I known, I would have waited."
Which is a lie, because there's no way I would have entrusted myself into the car of so weirdo who stared at with such disdain earlier this morning.
And I'm still holding the cat by its scruff, which just makes everything really awkward. So I set it down, watching as it imdiately stretches and resus its previous position as if I hadn't just been interrogating it.
Just you wait.
Once we're alone, the interrogation begins anew.
But maybe I'll try to clip its claws first.
"You're a Blue Mountain pup," the Lycan tells Andrew coldly. "You can leave. Miss Harper is under the protection of the Lycan Pack."
"I have yet to bind myself to the new alpha," Andrew retorts, completely unfazed by the fact he's going up against a Lycan as a lowly beta-tier wolf. Even alphas bow their heads before the lowest-ranking Lycan, and this one follows Caine around like a lapdog. "If we're getting technical, I'm more a part of the Lycan Pack than Blue Mountain, as my only loyalty is to our one and only High Alpha."
I was impressed by my own bootlicking, but now I realize I should be taking lessons from the master.
The old Lycan appears stumped as his mouth opens and closes a few tis. Finally, he shoves Andrew aside and snaps at him to know his place as he stomps in my direction.
My back stiffens, but I desperately keep the faint, welcoming smile on my face. "Can I help you?"
He clears his throat. "That's my question."
The way he looks at is more curious than condescending, though his lip curls a little when he looks over. Whatever his judgnt is, I don't seem to have a passing score—as expected. But he's calm and polite, even subservient, with his words.
"I'm sorry?" I ask, not sure I heard him right.
He rolls his shoulders back. "My apologies, Miss Harper. I am here to help you in any capacity you require."
I glance at Andrew, who shakes his head at like I'm supposed to understand what he's trying to say.
The Lycan's acting like I just berated him, and he even looks a little pleased by it, with his cold eyes warming just a little, with faint crinkles at the ends.
No; I'm probably overthinking it. He's probably offended but trying his best to act.
"I don't require anything—"
"Miss Harper, I'm here to help with anything," he stresses calmly. "Please have a seat. Which machine is yours?"
He places his hands on my shoulders, gently manhandling into a hard-shelled plastic chair. There isn't even an intimidating squeeze or glare to keep in line, but my entire body goes stiff anyway.
What's with these Lycans and their sudden about-faces in how they treat ?
"Um… What exactly did he say?"
"I'm sorry?" the Lycan asks, so very courteous even though I know he finds lacking. It's weird.
"Caine. What did he tell you?"
"Ah." The old Lycan only lets go of only once my butt ets seat, and takes three steps back as he clasps his hands behind his back. "Miss Harper and the four shifter children she has with her are to be treated with utmost respect. The children have been acknowledged by our High Alpha as his own, and Miss Harper is…" His lips quirk a little, with an almost imperceptible pause. "…not his mate."
This ti, the pause is very obvious before he adds calmly, "He was very clear that you are not his mate, Miss Harper. Please don't worry."
Andrew's lips keep twitching like he wants to laugh and is desperately trying to hold it back, and it takes everything in not to glare at him.
"Oh…" I say faintly, wondering how everything's gone so terribly wrong.
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