Page 96 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“I… Thank you for doing that.”

He nodded, motioning me forward with his head.

I took a deep breath, fitting the key in the lock, trying to keep my hand from shaking. When the door swung open, I felt the same shock lurch through me at the disaster. It was just as it had been days ago, completely trashed, everything broken. I stood in the doorway, blinking.

Where was I supposed to start?

Fingers trailed down my arm, then a hand snaked around my front as Bastian pressed himself in behind me. He lowered his mouth to my ear. "I'll handle the big repairs. You can put things back where you want them. Something tells me you'll want it juuust right."

I huffed. “Yeah…probably. That… That sounds good.”

I entered the main living area, reaching for the bowl to deposit my keys, only to find it was on the ground. That was the first thing I picked up, the first thing I put back into place. The first step to rebuilding my life—again—after Luke had upended it. Then with Bastian’s help, we began moving around the room.

I watched him work for a few minutes, unable to tear my gaze away. He went to the television and pulled some black smoky tendrils of…something…from his metals. They settled over the screen, mending the shattered cracks. A couple of blinks later he was lifting it upright, back into place.

“Wow…” I shook my head, trying to clear away my surprise. “You really just…did that.”

“Doubted me, did you?” He grinned, letting his dimple out. That freaking dimple.

My mouth opened and closed. Then I smiled. “Not even for a minute.”

He winked and got busy with other things. As soon as the shelves and television cabinet was set to rights, I began grabbing objects, books mostly, and setting them back where they belonged. The items that were broken were set aside for Bastian’s attention.

We moved through the living space into the dining room and kitchen. When I spotted the broken shards of the pasta bowl and spoiled lasagna, I began cleaning it up. That fateful night felt like ages ago. “I can’t believe that I found out about Professor Miller’s death from the news,” I muttered, using a wad of paper towels to pick up the glass and spoiled food.

Bastian looked up from where he repaired a set of broken drawers. The bottoms had been punched out. The silverware and cookware were scattered everywhere, because Luke was anything if not thorough.

“I mean, I guess I deserved it for not keeping up with her. But still.” He hummed, continuing to work. I grabbed a rag to clean the remainder of spoiled food from the floor, then paused. “You never told me who hired you to find her murderer. You mentioned the will and her family. Was it them?”

Bastian hesitated. “For the record, Elle, that kind of information is confidential.” I gave him my best glare. “Yes, it was her family.”

I nodded, then set about scrubbing the floor. Except⁠—

“How did her family know to hire you?”

“What do you mean?” His words were slow, measured.

“I mean… You’re a goblin who works for the fae. They wouldn’t have hired you through the WBI. How would they have known who you are? What you do? Where to find you?” I fumbled with the rag, then let it fall, standing to face him. Something wasn’t adding up.

He set the drawer on the countertop, arms hanging limp at his sides. “You didn’t know, did you? I wondered when you never mentioned it.”

“Didn’t know what?”

He ran a hand over the shaved side of his scalp and swore. “Professor Miller was…she was a witch, sugar.” I blinked back at him. “Not a very powerful one, from what I understand. But she did come from a semi-prominent witch family—the Millers, on her father’s side.”

“You’re joking, right? This is just a joke. She wasn’t a witch, Bastian. I’d have known.”

He took a step back, crossing his arms. “Oh? That necklace lets you see a witch’s glamor, does it? What, exactly does a witch’s glamor look like?”

A sinking sensation filled my belly because…

"They don't," I whispered. "Witches are one of the few supernaturals who don't have or need glamor. They can hide in plain sight." The realization was a punch to the gut. "I knew that. I've always known that. But I never suspected Jane because I trusted her completely. I never even looked for signs because…why would I have reason to?”

That Jane had never mentioned such a monumental thing to me felt… Well, it felt a little like a betrayal.

Bastian’s face softened. “I’m sorry, sugar.” He came over and wrapped me in a bear hug, propping his chin on top of my head. For a moment, I let him. I took a deep breath, then another, but I couldn’t fight the tears filling my eyes. My emotions morphed into anger. I roughly pushed against Bastian, slipping out of his embrace.

“You’ve known for days and you didn’t think to tell me? Didn’t think to mention it as part of the case? You knew what my relationship was with her and you, what, thought I shouldn’t know? If you had a feeling I didn’t know, you should have told me, brought it up. Something!”