Wolf, Willow, Witch by Freydís Moon EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Freydís Moon
- Language: English
- Genre: Bisexual Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
TEHLOR NILSEN CHOMPED ON a reusable straw, searching for
tapioca pearls at the bottom of her almost empty cup. The house on
Staghorn Way stood before her like a fresh corpse, empty and fucking
basic. She sucked soggy boba into her mouth and chewed loudly, assessing
the renovated porch and stark white shutters. Total new-age Victorian.
Straight out of a Magnolia Network special. She half-expected a middleaged woman wearing designer overalls to burst through the front door and
call the house a ‘fixer-upper’ or ‘the perfect project’ before twirling around
with a paintbrush thrust skyward.
But it was a run-of-the-mill veteran who owned that cookie-cutter house,
and Bishop was still cruising through the Bible Belt with their dapper little
exorcist, leaving their houseplants thirsty and alone.
Gunnhild, Tehlor’s plump, spotted rat, sat on her shoulder, stretching her
pink nose toward the door.
“No knives this time, I promise,” Tehlor cooed. She toed at the welcome
mat with her pointed faux-ballet slippers and pushed it aside, revealing a
The door whined open. She stepped inside, scanning the shadowy
staircase and tall ceiling. The last time she’d breached that entrance, she’d
captured a handful of displaced ghouls—coaxed into the house by a
stubborn demon—and offered their naked power to Níðhöggr. It was
impossible to know if the great dragon had accepted her gift, but after she’d
completed the ritual, prayed to her gods, and chanted under the full moon,
Tehlor woke with an assortment of rose petals strewn across her bed.
Someone had smiled upon her, at least.
Power was a borrowed thing. Sometimes the gods soaked her to the bone,
and sometimes they left her parched and desperate, scrabbling for a
sacrifice that would earn their favor. Flowers weren’t her fuckin’ jam, to be
honest. But they’d been pretty enough.
Gunnhild’s tiny claws pushed through her beige blouse and needled her
skin. Tehlor kicked the door shut behind her and twirled in place, inhaling a
long, deep breath. She’d scraped this place clean of any spirits. Pulled them
through the barrier between life, death, and the in-between, and peeled back
their lifeforce like overripe fruit. Despite her successful harvest, and Colin
Hart’s botched, angelic ceremony, a foul presence lingered.
place the source of the energy—rage nestled in the belly of the house—but
she recognized its brutish hum. Knew the shape of a spirit bending upward
from the basement, reaching for another vulnerable magician to latch onto.
Like a remora on a barracuda’s belly. She crossed the living room,
dragging her finger across the banister.
Each step brought her closer to the peculiarity stewing beneath the
floorboards. She tapped the edge of the archway on her way into the
kitchen. Set her empty cup down and skipped her coffin-shaped fingernails
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