Page 8 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

My phone started vibrating. My stomach lurched when I saw the number.

Ambrose Blackthorn.

How the hell had he gotten my new number? Even my parents didn’t have it. Had one of my siblings given it to him? Surely not.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Iris said, seeing my shift in focus.

“Yeah, for sure.” My voice came out weak. “Thanks for the info.”

She bustled away.

My phone stopped ringing. I waited, my nerves on edge, to see if a voicemail popped up. Nothing did. Forcing myself to disregard the call, I turned back to my lesson plan.

I’d just started typing out notes when it vibrated again. This time, with a text.

Ambrose

Had lunch with your parents today. They miss you. Your mother thinks you’re being childish. When are you coming home, darling?

Suddenly, the warm atmosphere in The Roost didn’t feel so warm anymore. I gripped my phone, my knuckles going white. For a brief moment I hesitated before clicking on his number. Then I promptly blocked it, something I should have done the moment I changed mine.

3

My phone vibrated with an incoming call. I glanced at the caller ID and picked it up on the first ring. “Vera! Did you give Ambrose Blackthorn my new number?”

My older sister sputtered and coughed. “God, Becs, warn a girl before you use bad language.”

“Come on, Vee, I’m serious.”

“That’s really why you texted me, and I quote, ‘Call me, it’s serious?’”

“It is serious. That piece of shit texted me earlier and I want to know how he got my new number.”

“Well it wasn’t me. You know I’d never give anything to that worm.”

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the couch. Basil, my little lover boy, sat in my lap as I stroked his soft head. Sage was on the floor playing with her cups.

“What did he say?” Vera’s voice went hard.

“That he had lunch with Mom and Dad.”

“Our mom and dad? Those filthy traitors.”

“You know how they feel about this.”

“It’s selfish—they’re selfish.”

“Except according to them, they have our best interests at heart.”

“Becs. You should have been honest with them.”

Maybe she was right.

I rocked my jaw back and forth. Memories of that night came back in flashes. Ambrose pulling me into a dark hallway during the Supernatural Council Gala. Chastising me for looking like a slut because I wore a dress that ended mid-thigh. The way he slammed me against the wall, pulled my hair, jerked my head to the side, all so he could tell me I was making him look bad.

“They’ll say I’m overreacting.”

Vera made a sound. “He assaulted you!”