Page 3 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

My chin began trembling. I forced my car door open, tossing my pack into the passenger seat.

My movements were far from graceful as I climbed in and clicked my seatbelt into place. Perhaps with more force than necessary. Then I started the engine, peeling out of the dirt turn-off. As I drove, my vision blurred with tears. I tried to blink them back, but they just kept coming. I managed three miles before pulling over on the side of the road.

Heartbreaking sobs clawed free of my body as my shoulders shook. I gripped the steering wheel, holding on to it for support. The frustration over today’s failure, the hopeless feeling of running out of time, the fear I’d felt thinking he would hurt me.

“That fucking asshole!” I slammed my palms against the wheel over and over, letting every bit of my rage and heartbreak free.

Hours later, A half-empty box of Hawaiian pizza sat open on the table. I was in the midst of unpacking my entire life into my new bungalow on Main Street, just down the street from the town’s center. Redding was a small college town. I’d lucked out, finding this little gem for rent.

The start of the fall semester was a week away. I had lesson plans to finalize. Boxes to unpack. A new life to settle into.

A knife to find.

But here I was, on the phone, trying to process everything that had happened.

“Let me get this straight.” Elle’s voice came through my earbuds as I opened another box and began shelving books. “He broke your detector, threw you over his shoulder, you got free with magic, he tackled you to the ground, and then he threatened to kill you?”

“That’s the gist of it.”

“Who the fuck does he think he is?!”

“A werewolf with anger issues, clearly. One who won’t allow me on his land.”

Elle was quiet for several beats. She was a PhD student at Walton University. We’d met three years ago, after Professor Jane Miller’s death. Elle was the woman Aunt Jane left everything to. A fact my family hadn’t anticipated when it came time to read her will. There was some shady stuff about Aunt Jane’s death, which was why my father had hired a supernatural bounty hunter. Eventually, we got the answers we needed. Turned out it was some guy—Elle’s ex, specifically—tangled up in fae politics, who had killed her.

To honor her, we held a memorial service one year after her death. In a burst of curiosity, I’d sought Elle out after the ceremony. We connected instantly, but we grew even closer once I confided in her about my family’s curse.

Which is why she was the first person I called tonight.

“Are you going back?” Elle asked.

“I don’t have a choice.” I ignored the tremor of unease that raced down my spine. “You know I don’t.”

“Hmm. Maybe there’s something Bastian can do.”

I blew out a breath. “Bastian has already done enough. Both of you have. The rest is up to me, remember?”

Elle was something of an artifacts expert. Aunt Jane’s protege. On paper, her speciality was art history, but that was because humans didn’t know about us—other supernaturals like me. Funny enough, Eleanore Rose Kennedy was as human as they came.

Humans thought artifacts were mere relics of the past. Little did they know, each one possessed magical qualities. It was Elle who brought the witchbone knife’s existence to my attention. An artifact blade capable of breaking blood curses. It was the salvation I needed—that my family needed.

“How is Bastian, anyway?” I tried to change the subject.

“He’s on a work trip right now. Teddy and I have the whole house to ourselves.”

A laugh broke free. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Elle chucked. “Both.”

Bastian and Elle were mates. Something I couldn’t help but feel a smidge jealous about. The idea of having someone who was perfect for you? It had a certain appeal. Especially for someone who spent all her free time in books.

“I like the quiet,” Elle continued. “And girls night last night was a blast. But I also miss him, you know? Especially his pancakes.”

“Lucky,” I groused. “I’d kill for some good pancakes.”

“You just wait. You’ll find someone to make you pancakes soon enough.”

Eventually, we said our goodbyes. Then I tackled a bit more unpacking until exhaustion got the better of me. I slid down a tower of boxes to sit on the floor.