Some Alpha 171

171 Grace: Not Paranola 

171 Grace: Not Paranoia 

The phone in my back pocket chimes with a notification. I wipe peanut butter off my fingers, and Jer snatches the PB&J with a quick, “Thanks!” tossed over his shoulder. 

For whatever reason, he and Sara are in some sort of competition, where they’re counting white cars (Sara) and red cars (Jer). They also yell out when they see tow trucks pass–as if rubbing salt into the wound of our long wait. 

O 

Caine and Andrew are outside with the dog, probably still staring at the tire they can’t fix. 

Whatever keeps them happy, I guess. 

Since Bun’s napping on Ron’s lap and my hands are once again free, I check the phone, expecting to see another Divinity Connect message. 

Instead, I see Lyre’s name. 

[LYRE: Owen’s place was burned down. Good thing you got out.] 

I gasp. Burned down?! 

Ron glances up from where he’s been playing with Bun’s feet as she sleeps. “Everything okay?” 

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. Everything’s fine.” I’m already lying to children. I’m a terrible mother. “I’ll be right back. I need to call Lyre.” 

“Okay,” Jer and Sara chorus. 

My hands shake as I duck into Lyre’s bedroom and shut the door. This isn’t a conversation to have over texts. 

The phone rings over and over, until finally it clicks. 

Before she can even say hello, I demand, “What do you mean, burned down?” 

On Lyre’s end, chaos reigns. Something crashes. There’s ‘shouting, then a sound like glass breaking. Suddenly, it all cuts off. 

“Big fire makes everything into ash.” Her voice is as dry as usual. 

(<171 Grace; Not Paranola 

I groan. Now is not the time for humor. “You know what I mean. What happened?” 

She sighs. “We went to pick up Owen’s car, and found the aftermath. They got his car too. The rest of the street was fine, so the fire was only contained to his lot somehow. 

It takes me a second to remember the cave was somehow connected to a house. 

“And the cave?” 

“It’s… fine.” 

She doesn’t sound like she’s telling the truth, though, and my suspicion only grows when she quickly changes the subject. 

“How far are you now? Where did you stop for the night?” 

I lean against Lyre’s dresser, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Blonde hair I’m finally used to. Dark circles under my eyes. A weird stain on my shirt; no idea where it came from. 

Maybe it’s snot. Not mine, obviously, but Bun’s. 

I look as frazzled as I feel. 

Traveling with kids never sounded like it would be easy in the first place, but I was wholly unprepared for the reality of it. 

“How far… hah. So, funny story…” 

I explain our current predicament, occasionally distracted by random spurts of noise on her end of the line. It all sounds very… squishy. And disturbing. 

She doesn’t interrupt. When I finally finish, dwindling into silence after telling her about the flat tire, she speaks. 

“Trouble just seems to follow you everywhere, doesn’t it?” she drawls. “Try to stay safe, at least. Let me know if you need money, I’ll add more on the card I gave you. Tire 

aren’t cheap.” 

The tattered remnants of what (if you’re generous) might be considered pride bristle. It’s good to know I have some somewhere, though. “I can’t keep taking your money, 

Lyre.” 

Though, Caine’s the one footing the bill. So what little pride I’ve managed to accrue 

171 Grace: Not Paranoia 

shrivels. I’m still too dependent, but it isn’t like life’s slowed down since escaping Blue Mountain. 

“I have too much of it anyway.” There’s a note of dismissal in her voice, suggesting this topic is non–negotiable. 

I sigh. Realistically speaking, I’m poor. I have no job and no prospects for one in the near future, with this strange lifestyle I’ve somehow acquired. Who am I to argue with free money? If it wasn’t for Lyre–and now Caine–I’d be homeless and starving. 

Before I can respond, a wet, sloppy sound comes through the line, followed immediately by a high–pitched scream. It makes my ears tingle uncomfortably. A slight shudder runs down my spine.. 1 

“What was that?” I pull the phone away from my ear, checking the screen as if it might show me what’s happening. “Lyre, what are you doing right now? Are you-” 

“Just clearing up an infestation.” Her tone remains casual, as if she’s swatting flies. And yet it sounds quite violent on her end of the line. “Don’t worry about it.” 1 

I’m worried, for all kinds of reasons. 

“Was this a bad time?” 

“It’s almost never a bad time for you, Grace. But hold that thought.” 

More awful noises. For some reason, I’m imagining her bludgeoning people with a bat, and it leaves me uncomfortable. 

Not only because she might actually be doing that very thing–this is Lyre we’re talking about, and I’m starting to understand she’s as crazy as Caine in her own special Lyre way–but because some of me doesn’t really care. 

Who am I, and what have I done with my morals? 

Does it really only take a few days to change your entire world view? 

Apparently so. 

“Okay, I lied. It’s a bad time. Keep me updated, and I’ll call you 

later.” 

The line goes dead before I can get another word in. 

I stare at the phone in my hand, unnerved and off–balance after the brief conversation. 

171 Grace: Not Paranoia 

Slowly, I set it on the dresser and wrap my arms around myself, rubbing at the sudden chill racing along my skin. 

Who the hell went after Owen’s place? And what would they have done to us, if they managed to get in…? 

My uneasiness from earlier wasn’t paranoia after all. Whatever’s out there, the strange feeling had saved us from it. I just wish I had more answers on what it is. 

But it’s not hard to make a guess. 

The children have been hunted all their lives, and Owen’s lost many more than the four we’ve taken under our wing. 

They have to be after the children. 

Another shiver wracks through my body, and I gulp down a couple deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. 

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. 3