Page 54 of Soul of a Witch

“It’s none of your business,” I whispered.

“It’s well within my rights to know who the hell my daughter is whoring herself out to!” He grabbed my arm, again, his fingers digging in. I wondered suddenly if he’d leave a bruise of his own, a bruise Callum could see.

Would Callum find a way to kill him too?

“William Frawley,” I said. I hated to drag his name into this at all, but it was the only way. He was the only person who made sense, someone my father hopefully wouldn’t consider too much of a threat.

My father laughed. It wasn’t anicesound, it wasn’t humorous. It was cruel.

“Oh, Everly.” He shook his head. “Don’t be foolish. You think you have time to invest in this nonsense? Time to be spending with some…someboy? A boy who wouldn’t even love you? Understand you? Trulyknowyou? Do you really think anyone outside this family could possibly accept who you are? What you’re capable of? What you’vedone?”

He looked at me with revulsion.

“Dress yourself and go home.Straighthome. Don’t leave the house for any reason.”

He wrenched open the door once I’d dressed myself, leading the way back downstairs. My face was still hot, my hands shaking with adrenaline as we passed the cardboard box I’d shoved the grimoire into. Dad led me all the way outside, and when we reached my car, he said, “I’ll be driving right behind you. Straight to the house.”

20

Everly

As my father ransacked my room, pulling clothing out of drawers and tossing books from my shelves, I kept telling myself I was innocent. I didn’t know where the book was. I’d never touched it.

I was good. I was obedient. I wasn’t a liar.

Dad stubbornly refused to tell the rest of the family what had happened. Meredith became more and more irritated, until she was following Dad around the house, shrieking at him to tell her what the hell was going on. My siblings thought it was hilarious to watch, until their own bedrooms were next to be torn through.

Only when the house was entirely turned upside down did Dad leave, declaring he was going back to the Historical Society. He’d doubtlessly rip that place apart too, but his fury was slowly melting into fear.

If Leon found out he no longer had the grimoire, there was a good chance we’d all be killed.

The moment my father left, I locked myself in my room. I needed to get out now, while I had the chance. The grimoire was still out there. I needed to get back to the Historical Society, find the box before my father did, and run.

But night had fallen, and I had no vehicle. Callum had promised he would be nearby, but I hadn’t seen a sign of him all day. I’d been so certain he would appear when my father caught me; I’d believed he would somehow sense my fear and come.

Sliding open my bedroom window, I leaned out into the night and whispered, “Callum! Callum, where are you?”

Only the chirping crickets answered me. The distant trees moved in the breeze; the grass swayed. Frowning, I said, more loudly this time, “Callum!”

A figure suddenly appeared from the darkness, and I jerked back so hard I banged my head on the window frame. But it wasn’t Callum. It was Leon.

His gaze practically glowed in the dark as he strode through the yard on silent feet. Shit, how much had he heard?

He stopped walking, taking a moment to regard me slowly.

“Considering sneaking out the window?” he said, as instant denial rushed to my tongue. “I wouldn’t bother, girl. If the Eld don’t get you, I’ll have to.”

I sunk onto my mattress, staring at him out the window. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, stepping closer, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

Could he smell Callum on me? On my window? On my bed?

But all he did was scoff in disgust and back away, saying rudely, “Fucking witches…” He kept muttering as he walked away, disappearing into the darkness, and I finally breathed a little sigh of relief.

But my relief was short-lived. Where the hell was Callum?

Despite the risk, the day after my attempted theft, I made a call to the Historical Society. I kept my questions as casual as I could with Janet, not wanting to raise her suspicions as I asked if the cardboard boxes on the second floor were still there.

“Oh, those were donated,” she said. “Some guy picked them up this morning.”

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