Freed By the Witchbone Knife (The Arcane Artifacts #3)

Chapter 1

There was something cathartic about hiking through the forest in late summer.

The drone of cicadas mixed with the scent of oak and pine.

I inhaled deeply, looking down at my lunarium detector—a device sensitive to picking up the crystal’s presence.

The readings were weaker here, so I carefully made my way over the rough terrain as I waited for the signal to intensify.

My hiking boots were brand new and there was a blister forming on my pinky toe. I should have listened to the checkout clerk at the sporting goods store and broken them in properly. But that would have taken time. A precious commodity I was running low on.

I ignored the burn on my toe, keeping my eyes alert for anything that remotely looked like a cave entrance. There was a slim chance I’d stumble across it on day one. Still, I had to start somewhere.

My shoulders slumped. I had thousands upon thousands of acres to cover. Something that would take days. Months. Possibly longer.

But my approach was organized. Because that was how my brain worked. I’d already meticulously mapped everything out.

The beeping on my detector kicked up a notch and my heart skipped. Pausing, I took a moment to scan my surroundings. The sun beat down through the canopy of trees, casting dancing patterns of light across the bed of pine needles and dead branches littering my path.

Sighing, I set down the detector and swung my pack around, pulling my water bottle free and taking a healthy drink.

If today’s adventure was a bust, at least it served a purpose—to illustrate how horribly out of shape I was.

So what if I liked spending my free time wrapped in a blanket on the couch reading romance novels and eating sour gummy worms? Sue me!

Pressing on, I made it another thirty feet, trying not to stumble as the clicking on my detector turned into a high-pitched whine. There was definitely lunarium here. Which proved my first theory correct. There was a cave system beneath me. I just had to find the entrance—

“What the fuck do you think yer doin’?”

I let out a little scream and whirled around, backing up several paces before falling flat on my ass. Thanks to a stupid branch. Pain shot up my lower back. My detector landed with a thump a few feet away. My gaze fixed on the mountain of a man towering over me.

He had a prominent scar that carved diagonally across his face, cutting through his eye, leaving it damaged.

The rest of him was distinct and powerful.

His hair was a deep brown with a glint of gold, accentuated by the sun.

It was a mess of choppy strands that fell just right around his ears.

His jaw was covered in scruff that hadn’t been shaved for a week or two.

His harsh eyes were a shade of amber that made me think of burnt honey, even if there was nothing hot about the way he looked at me.

“I…”

“Asked you a question, lass.” His frigid voice held a faint Scottish accent. “Answer me.”

“Right.” Gathering the bravado I didn’t feel, I jumped to my feet and brushed off my leggings, then held out my hand. Maybe he wouldn’t kill me if I was polite? “I’m Rebecca Miller. But most people call me Becca. And you are?”

“Unhappy to see you here.” He glanced down at my hand before meeting my eyes. “On my land.”

“Your… Oh! I didn’t realize. Your land? Are you sure?

” The chill in his expression didn’t budge.

There was something almost…feral about him.

A wildness that spoke of danger. I dropped my arm, rubbing my palm against my leg.

“Got it. I must have made a mistake then. Just thought I’d go for a hike, you know? Get some fresh air.”

“A hike.”

“Yep.” I took a step closer to my detector. Maybe I could grab it and run?

He glanced at it before taking in my attire, my brand new boots.

His expression finally changed, anger mixed with disgust. He stepped forward.

The crunch of plastic and circuits filled the silence as he smashed my detector beneath his heel.

He didn’t so much as look down. “I’ve no time for your lies. ”

A nervous laugh burst from my chest. “I’m just going to—”

“Get off my property?”

“Yeah. That.”

I backed up a step, my heart hammering. Every muscle was strung tight, ready to spring into action, but afraid all the same. Afraid that if I ran, he’d chase after me. Like an instinct I couldn’t shake.

Leaving the pieces of my device trapped under his boot, I turned and took off at a quick pace, picking my way over the uneven ground. A low, irritated growl filled the air. It sent a shiver of unease racing down my spine.

“Wrong way!”

I spun around. And promptly lost my footing. Again. Landing on my ass. “Fuck.”

He stalked toward me, covering the distance between us. I tried to scamper backwards as he bore down on me. I didn’t get far. Before I knew it, he swung me up off the ground and over his shoulder.

I screamed, adrenaline dumping into my system. My body acted on pure instinct. Magic ripped from me as vines shot out of a nearby bush, wrapping around his legs.

The drain on my body, my magic, was immediate—a familiar tearing sensation, like someone had reached into my chest and ripped out a part of my soul. Permanent. Irreversible.

“For fuck’s sake!” My assailant stumbled as the vines tightened around him.

Screaming bloody murder, I threw my weight against him, breaking free as I fell to the forest floor. I sprang up, taking off at a sprint. The sound of his angry curses followed me.

Pounding footfalls sounded behind me. Then a heavy weight slammed into me.

His body. We both went flying, twisting through the air as he turned to absorb the impact before rolling us over and pinning me under him.

His hands trapped my wrists, hoisting them above my head, hips nestled between my thighs.

My body arched against the pack pressing into my back.

I whimpered at the helpless position—

Then fell completely still at the sight of his eyes.

His yellow wolf eyes.

One perfect, the other marred by the scar bisecting his face.

He blinked and they changed back. So quickly it was easy to think I’d imagined it. Only, I hadn’t.

“Use your magic on me again, witch, and I’ll kill you.” There was something wild and untamed in his voice. Something almost…insane. And yet, beneath it all I caught a flash of fear.

“I…”

Magic.

My magic.

I’d used my magic.

To get free of him.

Which had amounted to nothing.

My emotions transformed into anger. “You were going to assault me! What did you expect?”

He reared back. “Assault—fuck.”

The weight of him was gone as he scrambled away from me. I climbed to my feet, my chin jutting out.

“Slinging you over my shoulder is not means for assault.”

“Well, what was I suppose to think?”

“You are a hazard to yourself. I’ve seen baby deers with more grace.”

“So you thought what, that you’d carry me all the way back to my car?”

His jaw ticked. Yep. Just as I suspected.

“I’ll walk, thanks.” I turned on my heel and did exactly that.

When he didn’t try to tackle me again, my muscles began to relax. I was hyper aware of each step. Baby deer, my ass. Who did he think he was, anyway? Bear Grylls in a flannel shirt?

I covered my snort with a cough. And maybe I did try to walk more carefully. But not because of him. Just…because.

The press of his steps followed me all the way back through the trees. When I finally reached my car, I spun around, ready to give him another piece of my mind. But there was no one there. I stared into the trees for several long moments before stomping around to the other side of my car.

I hadn’t known there were other supernaturals in Redding. What was worse, the owner of the property I needed was a freaking werewolf. Half-feral enough to push me into using magic.

My chest sank. He’d forced me to give away another piece of myself. Something I might never get back. All because he couldn’t control his fucking temper.

What remained of my adrenaline drained from my system.

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.

What a horrible day.

When I was a child, using magic had happened more frequently.

Once we were old enough to understand—my siblings and I—our parents taught us the importance of avoiding magic and what it cost. Whatever magic we used, we lost. By the time I was old enough to control myself, the usage had stopped almost entirely and my powers were already weak.

I took a deep breath, determined not to shed anymore tears. The asshole werewolf wasn’t worth it. Because if I could find the knife, I could put an end to all this. Then it wouldn’t matter how much of my magic I lost. I’d get it all back.

Basil hopped over and jumped into my lap. The sight of him instantly put me in a good mood. I gave a delighted burst of laughter, stroking his soft ears. Sage wasn’t far behind as she hopped over. Not one to be outdone, she jumped into my lap beside her husbun, fighting for my affection.

My heart melted at the sight of them cuddling into me.

The two had been inseparable for longer than I’d known them.

Basil was a gray Holland Lop, while Sage was a black Lionhead.

I’d adopted them as a bonded pair from the shelter three years prior.

Someone had abandoned them, simply dumping them.

As if bunnies were capable of surviving in the wild.

I’d seen pictures of what they looked like when the shelter got them, matted fur, covered in fleas and ticks, half starved, in desperate need of medical attention—these pure souls who had only ever wanted love and a warm place to land, fresh hay, and clean water.

Somehow they’d managed to stay alive against all odds, even though they’d had everything taken from them.

I wanted to be like that. A fighter, despite the odds.

The moment I saw them sitting in their enclosure, dejected, waiting for a forever family, I knew my life would never be the same. And here we were, trying our luck on the other side of the country. A new life. For all three of us.

If everything went according to plan, a new future, too.