Page 30 of Curses and Casualties (Hunters Hollow #3)

Georgia

T he rental car’s air conditioning gave up somewhere around hour four, which means we’re now driving through mountain passes with all the windows down, and my hair whipping around like I’m in a shampoo commercial gone wrong.

Not the sexy kind. The kind where the model looks like she stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

I keep flexing my fingers, still amazed they’re normal again. No claws, no fangs, just regular human appendages that can’t accidentally puncture the upholstery. But Luna feels different now. Closer. Like she’s not fighting so hard to break free.

We showed them, she whispers in my mind, and I can actually hear her instead of just feeling her presence. We protected pack.

“Yeah, we did,” I murmur, touching my chest where I feel her resting.

“Did you say something?” Ryan asks from the driver’s seat, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Just talking to Luna. She’s... chattier now. I have to remember I can do that in my head.”

Scarlett shifts in the seat beside me, and I notice she’s been doing that a lot. Little movements, like she can’t get comfortable. Every few minutes she adjusts her position and takes a shaky breath.

“You OK over there?” I ask.

“Fine,” she says automatically, but her knuckles are white where she grips the door handle. “I just... I thought the pull was supposed to lessen the farther away you were from each other. But it just seems to ebb and flow. It’s weird.”

I glance past Scarlett to the blur of trees and granite out the window, and I see it again—just for a heartbeat—something dark and nimble moving parallel to the road, keeping perfect pace with us.

Like Ryan said earlier, this thing isn’t hostile.

But it’s something. Something following. Something fast enough to follow.

Don’t pretend you don’t know who that is, Luna says in my mind, not holding back for a moment now that she has the ability to communicate more freely.

Ethan checks the map, tracing the route with his finger. “Next turn should be coming up,” he says. “According to this, we should be arriving at the Stonecrest Falls Coven soon.”

“So what are we expecting?” I ask as Ryan takes the turn onto a narrower mountain road. “Gingerbread houses? Cauldrons bubbling in the front yard? Cats with attitude problems?”

“Knowing our luck, probably all of the above,” Ethan says. “Maybe some wind chimes made of bones.”

But as we crest the next hill, what we see makes us all stare.

“Well, fuck me gently with a broomstick,” Scarlett breathes.

Spread out in the valley below is what looks like a luxury resort.

Modern buildings with clean lines and lots of glass, nestled among carefully landscaped gardens.

A wrought iron gate guards the entrance, but instead of looking medieval and forbidding, it’s elegant.

Understated. Like something you’d see protecting a high-end spa.

“Are we sure we’re in the right place?” I ask, leaning over Ethan’s shoulder and double-checking the map.

“This is it,” Ryan says, pulling up to the gate. “Crescent Lake. Population... apparently rich witches.”

A security guard approaches the car, but instead of the gruff mountain man I was expecting, he’s wearing a crisp uniform with gold embroidery along the edges. His smile is professionally polite.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Evanora Thorne,” Ryan says. “We were sent here by Magnus Erickson.”

The guard’s expression doesn’t change, but he taps something on a tablet. “Name, please?”

“Ryan Blackwood.”

The guard eyes the rest of us in the overheating car.

“These are my pa— companions,” Ryan finishes.

Another tap. A pause. Then the guard’s smile becomes genuinely warm. “Ms. Thorne will be delighted. Please follow the main road to Building C. Someone will meet you in the lobby to escort you to the penthouse level.”

The gates swing open silently, and we drive into what can only be described as Supernatural Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

“This is not what I expected,” I mutter, gaping at the perfectly manicured lawns and the woman in yoga pants who’s definitely casting some kind of spell on her prize-winning roses.

“Same,” Ethan agrees. “Where are the bubbling cauldrons?”

“Probably in the basement,” Scarlett says, but she sounds distracted. Her hand drifts to her chest again, and I notice she’s turned slightly in her seat, like she’s trying to look behind us at the closing gates without being too obvious about it. “I feel better.”

I glance behind us too. Whatever’s been following us is locked out now, and Scarlett’s body language has noticeably relaxed.

Building C turns out to be a sleek high-rise that wouldn’t look out of place in downtown Seattle. The lobby is all marble and modern art, with a reception desk that’s expansive and intimidating.

“Mr. Blackwood?” A woman in an expensive-looking business suit approaches us. “I’m Catherine, Ms. Thorne’s assistant. She’s waiting for you upstairs.”

The elevator ride to the penthouse is silent, and I catch Ryan’s eye and mouth what the hell? He just shrugs, looking as bewildered as I feel.

The elevator opens directly into what has to be the most gorgeous apartment I’ve ever seen.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the mountains, and the furniture looks like it belongs in a design magazine.

But there are subtle signs this isn’t just any rich person’s penthouse—crystals catching the light on floating shelves, plants that seem to glow with their own inner light, and the faint scent of herbs and the vibration of magic in the air.

“Well, well,” says a voice from the living area. “The soul-bonded pair arrives at last.”

The woman who stands to greet us is nothing like the witches I’ve met so far.

She’s maybe forty, with short platinum blonde hair and the kind of understated makeup that looks professionally done.

Her outfit probably costs as much as my entire wardrobe—designer jeans, cashmere sweater, shoes that are definitely Italian leather.

But then I look into her eyes and... they’re ancient. Deep purple, like amethysts, and far too knowing for her face.

“Evanora Thorne?” Ryan asks.

“The very same.” She glides toward us, moving like she’s floating just slightly above the ground. “And you must be Georgia. Oh, my dear. You’re absolutely luminous. Luna is bonding to you beautifully.”

I feel my cheeks heat. “Um, thank you?”

“Please, sit.” She gestures to the cream-colored sofas. “Catherine, could you bring tea? The good stuff, not the tourist blend.”

As we settle across from her, Evanora crosses her long legs and studies us with those unsettling eyes. “Now then, I assume Magnus sent you because you need help with the curse I so artfully crafted.”

“He did,” Ryan says carefully. “We were hoping?—”

“Hoping I’d just hand over what you need out of the goodness of my heart?” Evanora’s laugh is musical but sharp. “Oh, darling. I may have created that curse, but I’m not running a charity.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop a few degrees. Ryan’s jaw tightens, and I feel his protective instincts flare through our bond.

“What do you want?” I ask directly.

“Straight to the point. I do appreciate that.” Evanora accepts a delicate teacup from Catherine with a nod of thanks. “Sugar? Cream? It’s a special blend—helps with supernatural constitution.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Ryan repeats, his voice edged with Kane’s growl.

Evanora’s smile turns predatory. “Three things, actually. First, that rather lovely collection of heartstones you’re carrying. I can smell their power from here.”

My hand instinctively moves to the pack at my side. “You want them all?”

“I’ll settle for them all.” She sips her tea. “Consider it a down payment.”

“And the other two?” Ryan asks, though I can tell he’s already calculating whether we can afford to lose the stones.

“That pretty little protection charm around your neck, Georgia. The Whisper Valley Coven’s work, I’d guess? Lovely craftsmanship, but I need the components.”

My hand flies to the necklace. It’s been my lifeline, my one guarantee of safety. “But without it?—”

“You’ll have to rely on your own power and your mate’s protection. How terrifying.” Evanora’s tone is mocking. “Which brings me to my third demand.”

She sets down her teacup and leans forward, all pretense of politeness dropping away. “When you complete this ritual, when you become the legendary soul-bonded pair that every supernatural being will whisper about, you’re going to help me destroy the current power structure entirely.”

The room goes dead silent except for the soft clink of Catherine setting down the tea service.

“Destroy it how?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.

“The Supernatural Council has hoarded power for centuries, keeping our kind weak and divided. They’ve suppressed Soul Bonds, regulated magic, made us all dependent on their approval to exist.” Her eyes flash with genuine fury.

“Your bond will change everything. Magic will flow freely again. And when it does, you’re going to help me use that power to tear down their entire system and rebuild it properly. ”

“That’s...” Ethan starts, then stops, clearly overwhelmed.

“Revolution,” Scarlett finishes, and she sounds almost impressed.

“Precisely.” Evanora’s smile returns. “Think of it as insurance. I help you save your lives and your bond, and in return, you help me save our entire species from slow extinction.”

Ryan and I exchange a look. Through our bond, I feel his conflict—the same mix of fear and determination I’m experiencing.

“And if we refuse?” Ryan asks.

“Then you can try to complete the ritual without my blood—you need it to bless the moonwater. I’m sure that will work out splendidly.” Her tone makes it clear exactly how splendidly she thinks it would work out.