Grace of a Wolf - Chapter 229

Chapter 229: Lyre: Kids
LYRE

There are few things more heartbreaking than the sound of a child’s desperate sobs, even for a heart as jaded as mine.

Which is why my fingers are flying across my phone’s keyboard with unnatural speed, responding to Grace’s text with the most bullshit sweet talk I’ve ever mustered in my long, long life.

[LYRE: Want some more kids?]

[GRACE: Define “want”, “some more”, and “kids”.]

[LYRE: They’re cute, sweet, possibly potty trained, and don’t you think Bun needs someone to play with?]

[GRACE: She has siblings.]

[LYRE: Great! Having a secure family unit will help them acclimate to their new lives. We’ll invest in a 12-passenger van.]

[GRACE: … can you just explain like a normal person for once?]

I glance up from my phone to the two tiny creatures huddled on the bed, pressed against the headboard. Their gaunt faces are contorted as they sob, but no tears fill their reddened eyes. It’s not that they’re faking—their bodies simply don’t have enough moisture left to waste on crying.

The girl clutches a handful of comforter like it might disappear. The boy stares at nothing, rocking. Both look about three or four, though it’s hard to tell with the malnutrition. Hell, they could be twins for all we know.

[LYRE: Found two kids in Fiddleback tunnels. Survived somehow. They’re alive, but barely.]

I shift position, and both children startle like I’ve fired a gun. The girl presses herself harder against the headboard. The boy’s rocking intensifies.

Fuck. This is why I don’t do heroics.

But the moment I saw them, another little body flashed in my memory, and… well, now they’re in the room I’ve claimed as mine.

But unlike Grace, I don’t have “mom” instincts. So this is temporary.

[LYRE: Owen’s already planning to take them in. You can’t deprive the kids of their siblings, can you?]

[GRACE: … how far away are you?]

The door creaks open and Owen edges in, balancing a tray with two small bowls of porridge. His broad shoulders seem to fill the entire doorframe, but he moves with careful precision, as if he’s carrying something precious.

The children don’t even look at him, trying to shrink further into their corner of safety. Not even his angelic presence has gotten them to open up.

“Made it thin,” he says quietly, even though I didn’t ask. “It’s what they need for now. Too much at once will make them sick.”

The children flinch when he kneels by the bed. The boy’s rocking turns frantic, a sour smell filling the room.

I sigh and add another text:

[LYRE: They’re really quiet and don’t take up much space.]

[GRACE: … they aren’t objects, Lyre …]

Owen moves with efficient calm, setting the tray on the nightstand before backing away a few careful steps.

“It’s just a little food,” he says, his voice abnormally soft. Even so, he still sounds like he’s threatening to murder them.

Huh. I wonder how he coaxed the other children into trusting him. I wouldn’t, and I’ve been an adult for too many lifetimes.

Strangely, they don’t flinch, and the boy even stops rocking. Food bribes work, even if you sound like a killer, I guess.

“I’ll stay over here,” Owen continues, settling against the far wall. “No one’s going to make you eat.”

My eyebrow twitches. If they don’t eat, I’ll happily be the bad guy and force feed them. Even if they don’t trust us, they need something in their bellies. They’re starving and dehydrated, and they’ll die if they don’t eat.

But I suppose informing children of your intent to feed them, even against their will, is probably not going to endear them to you very much.

My phone vibrates with another text.

[GRACE: How many children?]

[LYRE: Two.]

More, actually… but they were already bodies before we got to them.

The last couple days have been a parade of horrors. Nothing I haven’t seen before, but it hits hard every time. In the end, our hunt has turned into a rescue mission, our prey likely long gone. No matter; I’m sure we can pick up their trail again later.

Turns out Isabeau’s operation went deeper than even I’d expected. This underground complex stretches for miles beneath Fiddleback territory, a true labyrinth hiding the monstrosities behind the pack’s existence.

Owen sneezes, and the boy jerks his head toward the movement, eyes wide with animal terror.

“The porridge will get cold,” the angel-descendant says mildly. “Just thought you should know. I’ll be right here if you need help.”

[GRACE: Well, we can’t just leave them alone.]

My lips curve. As expected of a woman with her fate.

Sweet, predictable Grace. Always so ready to help, even with four magical children already in her care.

[LYRE: I’ll figure out how to ship them.]

[GRACE: They aren’t things, Lyre…]

I glance up from my screen to see the girl inching toward the food. She freezes when she notices me watching, so I deliberately look back at my phone.

[LYRE: You know what I mean.]

Grace doesn’t need more responsibility, but these hollow-eyed children need her specific brand of fierce protection. They need her pack of misfit shifters.

And she probably needs the distraction, or she’ll end up barefoot and pregnant in Lycan territory before she knows what’s happened to her.

The girl inches closer to the tray, reaching a trembling, near-skeletal hand toward one of the bowls, barely visible in my periphery.

I frown down at my screen; porridge isn’t enough for these little ones. We need formula, something fortified with all the things they need.

A knock at the door makes both children jump. The girl’s hand retreats, and she’s back against the headboard in an eyeblink. I bite back a curse, but Owen just glances at the door without even a blink to show his irritation.

“Come in,” he says calmly.

Aaron—Jack-Eye to everyone else—pushes the door open with his shoulder. His red hair is pulled back in its usual leather tie, but there are dark circles under his eyes. Even his upbeat, overly charming disposition has been darkened and shadowed by the events of the last few days.

“Everyone’s settled for now,” he says. “At least, as settled as they can be. We’ve got people in six houses, all with clothes from the closets. Most are fed.” His eyes drift to the untouched bowls. “Doctors say they’re about halfway through triage, but some people need more care than they can give here.”

I nod. “Any luck with those portable IVs?”

The kids have already been checked over, but we’re out of supplies and waiting for more. Aaron more or less kidnapped a few doctors from the local hospital and an ambulance, but now we need to go back and raid their supply closets.

It’s sanctioned now; amazing what a few phone calls to the right people can do.

“They’ll be back in half an hour, hour tops. Then we can get these kiddos on some fluids. Ambulance is already at the hospital, and they’ve got a few more volunteers coming.”

“Good.”

Aaron rubs the back of his neck. “I’m heading to the store for some stuff. We haven’t found any clothes for the kids yet, and we’re out of towels again.”

“They need formula, too,” Owen says from his position against the wall. “And Pediasure for electrolytes.”

The red-haired Lycan blinks. “They’re a bit big for bottles, aren’t they?”

“Get bottled water, too. Not enough cups to go around,” I add, ignoring his question. He’ll figure it out if he thinks it through, I’m sure.

“Got it. Bottled water, towels, baby formula, electrolytes, and clean the shelves of all their meds and vitamins. Anything else?”

The girl’s lost all her courage, no longer attempting to get close to the food. I sigh, but Owen shakes his head at me, mouthing something.

I squint, and he mouths it again.

Patience.

Yeah, I get it.

“Lyre?” Aaron prompts.

“Soft toys. Maybe some fuzzy blankets.” The girl seems to like the comforter.