Page 32 of Curses and Casualties (Hunters Hollow #3)

Ryan

T he campground materializes exactly where Amara said it would be—tucked into the foothills of Whisper Valley, hidden by granite outcroppings and a witch’s subtle misdirection.

Our wolves feel it first. This close to home, the urge to shift and howl is nearly overwhelming.

I hear it from Ethan first, just a low, involuntary note that shudders the windows of the rental.

Scarlett snarls, clamping a hand over her mouth as her eyes burn gold in the rearview.

Georgia is silent, but her hands, folded in her lap, tremble as if Luna is kneading her bones from the inside.

“Everyone stay focused.” I bite down on Kane’s eagerness. We can’t lose control now. “We’re here less than a day before our supermoon deadline. We’re not letting our guard down this close to the end.”

We pull into a gravel turnout, headlights painting the trees before I cut the engine. The air is cold and sharp, the wind riffled with scents that make my hackles prickle: pack, pine, the distant but damp smell of the Soulcave beckoning us home.

Scarlett’s out of the car first. She paces at the treeline, hands in her jacket, jaw set.

Ethan follows, standing close but doesn’t touch her.

Instead, his eyes track the forest, taking in every shadow and movement.

Georgia hangs back, clutching Evanora’s kit like it’s the last parachute on a flaming plane.

“You ready, love?” I brush her sleeve, and she lets out a laugh, thin and shaky, more nerves than humor.

“I think so. I mean, I have no idea what’s going to happen. But I’m as ready as I can be.”

Her eyes find the moon, not quite full but so bright it carves silver from the night. I can sense Kane’s excitement, a purring wolf-song building in my chest. Next to us, Scarlett stares toward the ridgeline, her own wolf so close to the surface I catch the scent of wild musk and ozone.

Ethan walks around the old fire ring in the center of the campsite, a series of weathered picnic tables nearby suggesting normal hikers once used this spot. For the next twenty-four hours, it will serve as our war council.

“Cozy,” Ethan mutters, dropping his pack onto a table. “Very ‘planning to overthrow the supernatural order’ chic.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes and takes a seat on the table beside him. “As long as it’s not a car full of sweaty wolves, I’m in heaven,” she says, resting her head on her folded arms.

Georgia helps me gather kindling, her control over her partial shifts so natural now that she extends claws without thinking to strip bark from dead branches.

“I need to call Owen,” I say, the words heavy as stones. “He’s the last piece of this puzzle, but I’m loathe to bring him into this.”

“I mean, we could just hope that we can sense which heartstone shards belong to Luna once we get into the cave,” Georgia suggests. “There’d be more there, right?”

I shake my head. “We can’t risk it. We’ll be short on time, anyway. The more prepared we are before we get in there, the better.”

“OK.” Georgia’s hand finds mine. “You go call your brother. We’ll be right here.”

I nod and move to the edge of the clearing, pulling out a phone that feels foreign in my hands.

We’ve been on the run from the Elders for several weeks.

But so much has happened in that time that it feels like years.

When I key in my twin’s number and hold the cell to my ear, each ring stretches like an eternity until?—

“Hello?”

My breath catches in my chest and my eyes fall closed. “Owen.”

“Ryan?” My brother’s voice cracks on my name. “Thank god. Are you OK?”

“We’re safe,” I assure him quickly. “All of us.”

“You can’t come back here.” His voice lowers to an almost whisper.

“Something happened in the last couple of days. The Alpha has lost all reason. Three wolves are dead for ‘letting the traitors escape.’ He’s got wolves all over the mountain.

The pack is scared. Hell, I’m scared. Honey said there’s talk of wolf sightings all through Whisper Valley.

If things don’t calm down soon this is going to get really out of hand, really fast.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Scarlett had his mark removed, so she’s free of his control. I’d say that’s what set him off. Well, that on top of the fact the supermoon is tomorrow night, and his enforcers still haven’t put us down.”

I hear a pop and a squeal behind me—Scarlett’s laughter, wild and breathy, like wind through broken glass. Kane cocks his head, wolf-curious. I glance back and catch Georgia’s grin as she twists a stalk of pine between her claws, eyes bright while the others watch on in delight.

“Owen, listen,” I say into the phone. “Tomorrow night, Georgia and I are going to the Soulcave. We’ll be there at moonrise.”

“No. The Elders set a watch on it, Ryan. I’m not letting you walk into a goddamn trap.”

“We don’t have a choice,” I say. “Whatever happens to us, happens. But if we can finish the bond?—”

“You think that’s going to change anything?” Owen snaps, all traces of the polished academic gone to ground. “The Council will kill you before they let that happen.”

“Maybe,” I admit. I want to tell him more, to unload all the secrets I clawed from the last few weeks of near-death and running. But I can’t put that on him. Not yet. “We need the heartstone fragments, Owen. The ones you cleaned out of Georgia’s leg. I don’t trust anyone else to bring them.”

He’s silent for a long moment. I hear only breathing, and the faint clatter of what I’m guessing is him going through a drawer or something. Then he lets out a heavy breath. “I’ve got them. Where are you?”

“North Ridge. The old trailhead near Echo Point. We’re shrouded, so it’ll seem empty. But if you keep driving to the campground, I’ll find you.”

“I can get there in an hour,” Owen says, the old confidence flickering behind the exhaustion in his voice. “I’ll bring the fragments. Do you need anything else?”

A well of emotion springs behind my eyes.

“No, that’s it. Just bring yourself. Please.

” I want to tell him I love him, to say thank you for everything, for keeping our secret, for keeping me alive long enough to have this chance.

But instead, I say, “I need you to promise something, Owen. Once you meet us at the ridge, you and Honey need to get off pack lands. Take her and go stay on the human side of the valley until this is done. No heroics, no watching the show. No standing by in case you’re needed.

Just go. Please. I don’t want to think about you and her in the crossfire when the shit really hits. ”

My twin is silent for a moment, but the way his breathing stutters tells me he gets it—how real this is, how there might not be a next time. “I promise. We’ll stick to the safe zone until you say otherwise. But if you die, I’ll find you and bring you back just to slap you.”

I almost smile, that old brother’s ribbing a comfort even now. “Fair deal. See you soon.” I hang up, my hand shaking a little as I tuck the phone away.

When I return to the others, they’ve already started setting up camp. Georgia looks up from the fire she’s coaxing to life, reading my expression instantly.

“Good news?”

“Owen’s coming. He has the heartstone fragments.”

Her face lights up even as Scarlett curses. “That’s incredible! But also terrifying. If they catch him?—”

“They won’t.” I inject more confidence than I feel into the words.

“Of course they won’t,” Ethan mutters. “They’ll follow him.”

The truth of it sits heavy between us. But before I can respond, a shimmer of light erupts near the fire ring. Ethan jumps back with a curse while Scarlett drops into a fighting crouch. But I recognize the magical signature—honey and herbs with an edge of steel.

Amara steps through her portal like a general arriving at a battlefield. She’s not alone.

“Cutting it close, aren’t we?” she says, her usual ethereal calm sharpened to something harder. “Less than twenty-four hours to the supermoon and we’re just now gathering?”

“We’ve been a little busy,” Georgia says dryly.

Behind Amara, an unlikely army emerges. Two witches flanking her radiate power despite their modern clothes—one silver-haired and stern, the other younger with intricate braids I recognize immediately.

“Jules!” Georgia exclaims, genuine pleasure breaking through her nerves. “You made it.”

Jules grins, the same mischievous smile she wore when she masked Scarlett’s mark with her tattooing talents. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, someone needs to make sure you don’t accidentally blow yourselves up with that ritual.”

A vampire in designer jeans steps through next, looking bored but sharp-eyed. I recognize him immediately—the one who raised his glass to us at The Crossroads, acknowledging us with that knowing salute.

“Well, well,” he drawls, catching my recognition. “The famous soul-bonded pair. I had a feeling we’d meet again. Nice to see you survived this long.”

“You were at Crossroads,” Georgia realizes. “I remember you watching us.”

“Darling, everyone was watching you. You lit up that place like a supernatural Christmas tree.” He examines his manicured nails. “Though I must say, your current glow is much more... contained. Lucien Ashford, at your service.” He nods his head and steps to the side.

Three figures emerge last, and Georgia gasps. Where the other supernatural beings look mostly human with subtle otherworldly features, these three are unmistakably something else entirely. The fae.

The first appears almost human until you notice the way light bends around her, how her movements leave brief afterimages in the air.

Her hair shifts color with each step—silver to deep blue to forest green.

The second is tall and willowy with elongated limbs and fingers that end in what might be claws or might be thorns.

And the third... the third barely maintains a human shape at all, its form flickering between what looks like a person made of starlight and something that might be a deer with too many eyes.

“Holy shit,” Scarlett breathes.

“The fae courts have decided your bond serves their interests,” Amara explains as the three otherworldly beings arrange themselves with movements too fluid to be entirely natural. “They’re the oldest supernatural beings on this continent. Their magic predates even the first shifters.”

The first fae speaks, its voice like wind chimes made of crystal.

“We remember when the barriers between worlds were thin. When magic flowed freely between realms.” Its eyes, which seem to hold stars, focus on Georgia and me.

“Your bond will tear holes in the current reality. Create... opportunities.”

“Opportunities for what?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.

“For the old magic to return,” the willowy fae answers, its voice layered like multiple people speaking in harmony. “For the courts to operate as they once did in this realm.”

The third fae’s form stabilizes into something more human-like, though its skin still shimmers like oil on water. “The Council’s suppression of magic has weakened the pathways between our worlds. Your union will restore them.”

“And bringing up the rear,” Amara gestures to a young úlfhéenar warrior I recognize from Ragnar’s compound. “This is Erik. Ragnar sent him with twenty warriors. They’re positioned five miles north, ready to move when the moon rises tomorrow.”

“Twenty warriors is good,” I say, trying to process this supernatural war council.

Erik grins, all young warrior bravado. “The Jarl says fighting under the supermoon will honor the old ways. Besides, your old pack needs a lesson on how it feels to be set upon by unwelcome guests. We shall feast over their bones when we win!”

Georgia blinks. “Well, that’s… vivid.”

Scarlett just gives a low whistle. “I’ll bring the beer. Maybe some snacks.”

Erik raises his thick arms. “Yes! We’ll have much to celebrate!”

“Uh, sure?” I say, not sure if Erik’s enthusiasm is reassuring or intimidating, but for a moment his outright candor makes me believe we might actually pull this off.