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.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify