233 Grace: Dad is Home
Thankfully, wolves are built–in trackers.
Randy, only a step behind with Bun in one arm, pulls him calmly out of the doorway as Sara bounces on her feet in the hall, her face pale. Super Nanny to the rescue.
“It’s fine. They probably just want to explore. They’re smart”
“It’s gonna die out there. We’re in wolf territory. They’ll eat it.” Sara’s voice drops to a horrified whisper. “They’ll eat its guts first, probably.”
Very, very calm.
Too calm, damn it.
“Yeah,” Jer nods, for once in complete agreement with his older sister. “That cat food stinks. So does the dog food. No wonder their poop is so stinky, too.”
Kids are so fast, but my reflexes are slowly catching up to their insanity.
A muffled crack echoes as he bounds out the door and suddenly there’s no man but a massive silver–gray wolf racing into the shadows. He’s smaller than Fenris–well, every wolf is smaller than Fenris–but still a good two hundred pounds of muscle and teeth vanishing into the night.
Now that I’m inside, Sara’s sharp eyes zero in on the empty leash dangling from my hand. “Where’s Sadie?” she asks, panic raising her voice to a new high.
“Then do dogs taste like cows?”
So great.
All in all, it’s a wonderful night for our new little family plus our Lycan helpers. No Rafe sightings, no random bullies Ellie’s thrown my way, no messages from the App–which is still under emergency maintenance–and aside from a message from Lyre saying a few Lycans will be driving the children to us once they’re stabilized, it’s… calm.
Seriously, he makes it all look so easy. I’m mildly jealous.
Sara scrambles onto the dinette bench, pressing her face against the window and cupping her hands around her eyes to block the reflection. “What if the wolves eat
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233 Grace. Dad is Home
them before Dilly gets there?” she whispers, breath fogging the glass.
“They’re probably goners,” the boy says solemnly, climbing up beside her. “Wolves probably like cats because they taste like chicken.”
I probably should have expected that.
Instead of panicking, I just loop the now–loose leash around my hand and head inside, further unsurprised when a furnado dashes out with a yowl the moment I give it a chance at freedom.
She’s not a real dog, anyway. My fears for her safety have largely disappeared since Caeriel’s little insights at the Wash–N–Were, because I’m sorry but no dog on this planet goes around giving reports to anyone. Not unless “reports” has become a new euphemism for dog shit.
“No! You let out the cat!” Jer wails, about to jump out of the RV instead of taking the three steps like a normal person.
“But the caaaaaat!” Jer shouts, grabbing at my wrist and staring anxiously beyond me, straining to find a single white kitty in the darkness.
Hopefully it’s nothing bad.
Or he’s forgetful.
“Wait, no, it’s not-” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before Dylan tosses his shirt into Randy’s hands and bolts out the door.
I press my fingers against my forehead with a sigh. Dylan’s response time is admirable and probably unnecessary, but I guess it’s better not to call him back. Who knows what those two are up to. I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine, but it’s always possible they won’t be. They wouldn’t run off like this without reason. Something clearly has their attention.
Sara stops her window–gazing for a second to give me an accusing look. “The cat probably wants better food.”
Randy’s eyes widen with alarm. “I’ll tell Dylan to go after-”
“This is our fault,” Dylan says calmly, even as he’s stripping off his shirt in the kitchen. “Don’t worry, ma’am. It’ll just be a few minutes.”
233 Grace: Dad is Home
them before Dilly gets there?” she whispers, breath fogging the glass.
“They’re probably goners,” the boy says solemnly, climbing up beside her. “Wolves probably like cats because they taste like chicken.”
I probably should have expected that.
Instead of panicking, I just loop the now–loose leash around my hand and head inside, further unsurprised when a furnado dashes out with a yowl the moment I give it a chance at freedom.
She’s not a real dog, anyway. My fears for her safety have largely disappeared since Caeriel’s little insights at the Wash–N–Were, because I’m sorry but no dog on this planet goes around giving reports to anyone. Not unless “reports” has become a new euphemism for dog shit. 1
“No! You let out the cat!” Jer wails, about to jump out of the RV instead of taking the three steps like a normal person.
“But the caaaaaat!” Jer shouts, grabbing at my wrist and staring anxiously beyond me, straining to find a single white kitty in the darkness.
Hopefully it’s nothing bad.
Or he’s forgetful.
“Wait, no, it’s not-” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before Dylan tosses his shirt into Randy’s hands and bolts out the door.
I press my fingers against my forehead with a sigh. Dylan’s response time is admirable and probably unnecessary, but I guess it’s better not to call him back. Who knows what those two are up to. I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine, but it’s always possible they won’t be. They wouldn’t run off like this without reason. Something clearly has their attention.
Sara stops her window–gazing for a second to give me an accusing look. “The cat probably wants better food.”
Randy’s eyes widen with alarm. “I’ll tell Dylan to go after-”
“This is our fault,” Dylan says calmly, even as he’s stripping off his shirt in the kitchen. “Don’t worry, ma’am. It’ll just be a few minutes.”
233 Grace: Dad is Home
“It’s fine.” He’s completely mistaking what’s upsetting me, but judging by the way he’s swatting at a few moths that have invaded thanks to our extended door–opening time, he just wanted to get the door closed before more insects invade.
“I think cats taste like them more.”
“They’ll be fine, and I’m pretty sure they don’t taste like chicken. No one’s going to eat them.”
Which is why I’m not taken by surprise at all when, on Sadie’s sixth trip outside for a “potty” break (which is really just me suspiciously looking around in the dark waiting for Ellie and her goons to show up and hopefully get pummeled by an angry Dylan), Sadie slips her collar and dashes out into the darkness.
Randy practically drags me back inside, slamming the door shut with a grim look on his face. When I frown at his rough handling, he drops his hands almost immediately. “Sorry, Grace. We’ll be more careful about the pets.”
Sara suddenly straightens her back. “Oh!”
I blink. Suddenly this is my fault? I was outside!
“Get back inside!” My arm shoots out just as Jer’s about to launch himself through the doorway, and my palm smacks against his chest before he jumps.
“Don’t bother.” My cheeks flush a little with embarrassment over his level of worry. “They’ll come back if they want to. They’re technically strays, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Grace. The cat came out of nowhere and ran right for the door before we noticed anything was happening,” Randy explains, shoving both kids back and into the living room. “We’ll get it back.”
“Dogs do too.”
I’m so unfazed I don’t even yell after her.
Their conversation’s already taken a straight left into lala land, which at least is better than them worrying over the assumed demise of the two supernatural pets.
Andrew spent the morning with us and then disappeared after lunch, saying he had things to do and being rather vague, but at least the older Lycan doesn’t look like he wants to murder him anymore.
233 Grace: Dad is Home
Not judging. Just curious.
He frowns and goes silent, but I’m pretty sure he’s already passed onto Dylan to hunt down both the cat and the golden retriever.
Still, he could have just asked me to come in.
Except for the part of me so unused to it, it leaves me with a spiraling coil of anxiety until I feel like I’m about to pop out of my own Pandora’s box of fears.
I’ve taken Sadie outside for a “potty break” about five times since dinner–which was only an hour ago–and I’ve deep–cleaned every inch of the RV, which includes finding a bizarre amount of instant ramen packages hidden deep in a cupboard above Lyre’s bed. They’re expired, and both Dylan and Randy (whose name I think I’ve mostly committed to memory) spent about twenty minutes arguing over whether expired instant noodles is safe to eat or not. 2
He stares at me like I’ve suggested we abandon them in a rural field on purpose. “But-” “Are they back?” Jer asks eagerly, shoving his face against the window, too.
I hastily step out of the way, not wanting to get bowled over by an overeager Lycan.
Either way, I’ll ask first.
In the end the noodles were tossed, but not before Dylan taught the children about a popular 90s boyband group with their vocalist’s instant noodle–reminiscent hair. They’ve been playing one of their songs on repeat for the last hour because Bun’s obsessed, and now she won’t stop screaming “Bye!” while jumping from on the furniture. 3.
Worry sneaks in now, but not the same worry the children are currently having.
“I’m sure it’s not the food,” I mutter, feeling guilty for no reason, all because of two children throwing random blame my way.
(1
The entire day passes in peace, which is… great.
Jer says it makes Dylan sound like a redneck grandpa who likes to go fishing and eat cornbread, and it seriously makes me question what Owen’s been teaching these children during his time raising them.
“No, Caine…” Sara stops abruptly and looks at Randy guiltily. “I mean, ‘Dad‘ is home.”
233 Grace: Dad is Home
Oh, right. The children have decided Dylan’s new name Is Grandpa Dilly, and no amount of us explaining how awful the name is has changed their minds. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s cemented their love of the name further.
“Having adventures with the cat,” I say, trying to sound upbeat and unworried. Explaining the animals are supernatural stalkers in cute disguises can come later, when the Lycans leave. If Caine hasn’t already explained their oddity to his men, I won’t, either. He probably has reasons.
“Maybe they’re jealous ‘cause we get to eat Dylan’s cooking,” the girl suggests, returning her face to her darkness–peering.
Bun wiggles down and bounces over to the TV, where noodle–head is once again on repeat with their song. She either has no idea what’s going on, or doesn’t care. Her new obsession has all her attention.
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