Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 216

216 Grace: Inside the Wash–N–Were

216 Grace: Inside the Wash–N–Were

Something.

Giving up on the weird wall discoloration, I lean against one of the folding tables and stare at the ceiling.

Whatever. I don’t have the mental bandwidth to solve that puzzle right now. I have a quest, like I’m some sort of video game character, but with less clues.

I start at the back, beside the vending machines. The bulletin board is a chaotic collage of cards–lawn care services and babysitting offers being the most prevalent. For some reason, shifters hate taking care of their lawns…

I check behind the vending machines as best I can without moving them, but all I find are dust bunnies and a single ancient peppermint candy still in its wrapper.

Then my phone buzzes.

I press harder, and–nothing happens. It’s just a wall.

“Any hints?” I ask them both.

I’m halfway through my inspection of the front counter when I notice something odd about the wall behind it. There’s a slight discoloration, a rectangular patch about the size of a sheet of paper that looks newer than the surrounding paint.

Back in the main room, Sadie has moved to the far corner, her nose pressed against the baseboards, tail straight as an arrow. The cat hasn’t moved, still perched on its washer, apparently asleep.

Still, it’s creepy to be in an empty laundromat.

At the back, there’s a small alcove with vending machines and a bulletin board filled with self–printed business cards.

My phone feels heavy in my pocket. I pull it out and open the Divinity App, hoping for… I dunno.

The dollar slips out, along with a tiny, folded piece of yellowed paper.

I walk over and examine it more closely. The frame is nothing special–cheap black

216 Grace: Inside the Wash–N–Were

plastic. The dollar inside looks ordinary too, if a bit old, which is to be expected.

Nothing.

Inside the Wash–N–Were, several machines are in use, but no one’s inside.

I run my fingers along the edges of the board, feeling for anything unusual.

My heart beats faster as I unfold it carefully, but it’s blank, except for what looks like a weird maroon smear.

The cat’s ear twitches.

A notification. A message. A hint.

Not even a speck of lint.

Deleting the spam text with fierce prejudice, I glance around the laundromat with a frown.

Maybe I need to think more literally. Artifact. What counts as an artifact? Historical objects, items of significance, things people preserve…

Ignoring them both, I take the time to do the most pressing assignment: shoving our disgusting laundry into three separate machines. Thankfully, Wash–N–Were has detergent provided for those of us who forget to bring it (or don’t know where Lyre has it stashed).

Damn it. I thought I was onto something…

I lift the frame off its nail. It’s lighter than I expected. Turning it over, I pop off the back panel.

Empty.

But there’s nothing, except a text about a 20% off sale for diabetic supplies. I don’t know a single person with diabetes.

The laundromat is bigger than it looks from the outside and incredibly clean, with signs on every machine explaining how to use them. Rows of washers and dryers line both walls and a few folding tables stand in the center.

A random dryer dings and I jump about ten feet in the air.

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216 Grace: Inside the Wash–N–Were

I glance out the window. Andrew’s still in his car, head down, probably scrolling through his phone.

His loyalty’s welcome, but confusing. He was Rafe’s shadow, his wingman, for years. I’m tentatively positive he’s a safe ally, but it still just seems… strange.

Hean over the counter for a better look. It could be nothing–maybe they patched a hole, or hung something there that was later removed. But in my new life of supernatural weirdness, coincidences are rare.

My eyes dart over the wall with the bulletin board. I’d glanced over the various photo frames on the wall, detailing boring things about the business’s first milestones.

The white cat–still nameless, despite the many suggestions ranging from “Snowball” to “Death Claw“-jumps from machine to machine with effortless grace before settling on top of a washer mid–spin cycle. It curls into a comfortable ball, eyes half–closed, clearly preparing to sleep.

Who fucking knows.

Super fucking helpful. A part of me had kind of assumed these two strange animals–but–clearly–more–than–just–animal–beings would be a little more help with

the way they tagged along against my will, but nope.

Or were they never as close as I thought they were?

Sadie ignores me, intent on whatever she’s sniffing.

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