Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180: Grace: Fan Club

Awkward silence reigns in the car, and there’s no way I’m breaking it. Andrew’s tension is palpable even from here, but you know what? He deserves to feel anxious and off-kilter after having the audacity to question my relationship with Caine.

He’s a Rafe loyalist. He’s the second to last person on this planet I want poking his nose into my affairs.

Well—third. Ellie exists, after all.

I pull out my phone, needing something to focus on besides my irritation. My thumb hovers over my messages app.

No new texts from Lyre.

I type out a quick message asking if she’s okay and to text back when she can.

The message changes to "Delivered", but even five minutes later it still doesn’t show "Read."

My skin crawls as I consider the strange sounds in the background. No matter how I try to convince myself I might be mistaken, they sounded distinctly... violent-against-people-y.

But Owen’s there. I’m sure he’s helping keep her in check.

Maybe.

Then again, I’m not really sure anyone can keep Lyre in check outside of Divinity Connect.

Speaking of which...

My gaze shifts to the notification I’ve been avoiding. The one about "Lyrielle’s Fan Club" on Divinity Connect.

Taking a deep breath, I tap on the app icon. The interface looks a little different today, but still says (Limited). But now there’s a new chat thread at the top of my inbox, saying "Lyrielle’s Fan Club" in bold letters.

My thumb hovers over it. Curiosity wins out, and I tap.

A notification immediately appears.

[Grace Harper has accepted the invitation to join Lyrielle’s Fan Club.]

The messages flood in within seconds, but not before I notice I have no access to backchat.

[WRATH: ? Who the hell is this? Who the fuck sent out an invitation? This is our safe place, remember?]

[TIME: Maybe it was you in an alternate timeline.]

[WRATH: Stop fucking with me. You know that shit makes my brain hurt.]

[MADNESS: Join the dark side, baby~]

My eyes widen. What the hell kind of usernames are these?

[WRATH: Was it you, you piece of shit? We said no more invites.]

[MADNESS: Wasn’t me~]

[TIME: Perhaps you should stop living up to your name.]

[WRATH: Perhaps you should take the stick out of your hourglass.]

[TIME: How uncouth.] 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

[WRATH: I’ll show you uncouth.]

[TIME: Do you know what the word means?]

I scroll through the messages, my unease growing with every exchange. These people definitely know each other, and I have no idea who they are.

[MADNESS: More importantly~ why isn’t she talking? Hello? I know you’re reading us~]

How do they know? No; they don’t. They’re guessing.

[TIME: Are you drunk?]

[MADNESS: Yup~]

[WRATH: @Lyrielle was it you?]

[CHAOS: This time, it isn’t me, little anchor. Do you miss me? I miss you.]

[GRACE: Someone just added me to a chat called "Lyrielle’s Fan Club" on Divinity Connect. There are users called Wrath, Time, and Madness in there. Is Lyrielle you? Also, Chaos sent me a message and he sounds like a stalker. Should I be worried? Because I’m seriously worried. Please answer as soon as you can!]

I wait, watching for the read receipt, but it doesn’t happen. I’m not panicking, not exactly—this doesn’t feel like the bone-deep dread from before the last storm. This is just regular (I think) human anxiety about being contacted by strangers with weird names on a magical social media platform.

My head throbs, a dull ache building behind my eyes. Wrath. Time. Madness. Chaos. These aren’t just weird internet handles, not when Divinity Connect involves... well, divinities. These are entities. Forces. Or just people with really bad naming sense.

The white cat rolls onto its back, and I rub at its stomach without thinking. All four paws wrap around my wrist as it lightly chews against my knuckles. It acts like a perfectly normal cat, just like Sadie acts like a perfectly normal dog, but...

"Are you okay?" Andrew asks, finally breaking the silence.

"I’m fine."

"You don’t seem fine."

"I’m fine."

"Okay, okay. I was just worried."

"I don’t need you to be—" Cutting myself off, I suck in a deep breath. My annoyance with him aside, he hasn’t done anything except ask if everything’s okay. Sniping at him only makes me the immature one here. "Nothing’s wrong. I just want to get settled in for the night. This storm’s making me nervous."

We lapse back into silence.

Occasionally, Caine checks in via the walkie talkie, asking if I’m okay. Sometimes it’s Ron.

The children stay asleep through it all, even an hour into the drive.

Then another hour.

We’re almost there, and storm clouds have begun gathering in the sky, dark and menacing.

My phone keeps buzzing, but it’s always Divinity Connect, never Lyre. Andrew keeps giving me strange looks over it, but I don’t offer, and he doesn’t ask. It’s two hours of awkward nothing between us.

Ten miles from our destination, I finally check it again, only to see:

[Lyrielle’s Fan Club: 573 new messages.]

How long is it going to take for me to read through them all?

Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored all the buzzing.