Page 9 of Curses and Casualties (Hunters Hollow #3)

It’s over almost as fast as it begins, and when she lowers her hand and refocuses on me, she nods slowly.

“I understand now. A human vessel carrying a wolf spirit you can’t fully bond with.

But this glow... it’s not just the spirit trying to get out, is it?

It’s a reflection of something greater.” She turns her attention to Ryan, her eyes clouding with an otherworldly sheen.

“And you... you’re right about being her mate.

But you’re connected to her in a way I’ve never seen before.

Your souls—your human souls—are also intertwined.

It’s like…” The woman takes a step back and lets out a gasp.

“By the moon goddess,” she breathes. “You’re them, aren’t you?

The soul-bonded pair we’ve been hoping for. ”

Ryan tenses beside me, his arm tightening to the point where I have to let him know he’s about to crack a rib through our bond. He backs off immediately. “I suppose the answer to that depends on exactly who’s asking,” he finally says.

The woman straightens, composing herself. “My apologies. I’m Amara, the owner of this establishment.” She gestures around the tavern, a pride-filled smile on her face. “Welcome to The Crossroads, a sanctuary for all manner of supernatural beings. We don’t discriminate.”

“I see,” I start. “And you’re a witch, right?”

Before Amara can respond, a tall, broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair steps up beside her. His eyes, a startling shade of amber, scan over our group before settling on me with an intensity similar to Amara’s initial curiosity.

“She’s not just any witch,” he says, his deep voice rumbling as he slings an arm around her shoulder.

“Amara is one of the most powerful practitioners in the city but she’s too humble to say it.

” He smiles down at her, a gesture filled with both affection and respect.

“And I’m Darius, Amara’s partner in life, crime and I also help in running of this den of misfits. ”

Amara smiles warmly at him before turning back to us.

“What Darius means to say is that Crossroads is a safe space. And while my powers are above average”—she gives Darius the side-eye when he scoffs, and I can’t help but smile—”the focus of my magical abilities, and all I do, is to strengthen and unite the supernatural community.

Unlike the Council, who seem intent on segregating and weakening our kind with their divisive tactics and constant surveillance. ”

Ryan’s gaze shifts between Amara and Darius. “We’ve had our fair share of run-ins with our pack Elders,” he admits. “Seems the Council has outlawed what we are.”

Amara gives us a soft smile. “That’s because they can’t control a soul-bonded pair. They consider it a threat to their rule. But here, we consider their rule a threat to the natural order of things.”

“Come,” Darius says, gesturing for us to follow him farther into the tavern.

“You must be exhausted. Sit.” He stops beside an empty booth, and we all pile in.

I don’t miss the curious glances we get from the other patrons, but their looks are more out of curiosity than hostility.

A pixie waves at me, her tiny hand leaving a trail of golden dust in the air.

The Crossroads seems like a melting pot of supernatural beings, each more unique than the last.

“I’m sure you have questions,” Amara says. “I’ll get you all something to drink, and then we can talk more about this remarkable bond of yours.”

As we settle into the booth, the tavern’s patrons return to their own conversations, though I can feel their curious glances.

The leather seats are worn soft with age and smell faintly of herbs.

Ryan sits close beside me, his presence grounding when I could so easily dismiss all of this as some whacked out dream.

Amara returns with a tray of steaming mugs. “Chamomile tea,” she explains, setting them before us. “With a touch of magic to help you rest and soothe your nerves.”

“I’ll pass,” Ethan says, holding up his hand while his eyes keep darting around the room like he’s waiting for something to jump out at him.

I notice his gaze lingers on a table of what appear to be centaurs playing some kind of dice game.

Scarlett, however, gratefully accepts her mug with both hands, breathing in the aromatic steam.

“I could use some of that soothing,” she murmurs, taking a cautious sip before sighing in contentment. “Say, Amara? You don’t happen to know how to remove an alpha’s mark, do you?”

Amara shakes her head. “No witch in the city is strong enough to erase an alpha’s claim, not without killing one or both of you in the process. I’m very sorry. But you’ll need someone far older and stronger than me.”

“It’s OK.” Scarlett’s smile isn’t anywhere near her eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”

Ethan nudges into her slightly. “ We will figure it out.”

Next to me, Ryan tentatively picks up his cup, sniffs it, then takes a small sip. He nods in approval, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders.

“That’s surprisingly good,” he admits, and I can’t help but agree as I take my own sip, the warm liquid calming the tangled pit of emotion inside me. There’s something more than chamomile in this—something that tastes like starlight and makes my glow pulse brighter for a moment.

Good magic, Luna approves. Healing. Safe.

Amara settles in beside Darius. She doesn’t even get the chance to draw a breath before Ethan jumps in. “So, what’s your goal here?”

Amara’s brow shoots up as she assesses our very protective pack mate. “My goal? I’m trying to help you.”

“Why? What’s your end game?”

“Ethan,” Scarlett says, reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm. “Dial it down a little.”

Amara’s expression softens, understanding replacing her initial surprise. “I appreciate your caution, Ethan. It’s clear you’ve all been through a lot. But remember, you came to us seeking sanctuary. We’re not your enemies.”

Ryan clears his throat. “She’s right. And it’s worth mentioning that we’re here because of Caspian’s list. We trust him not to steer us wrong, right?”

Ethan pulls out the crumpled piece of paper Scarlett’s father gave us from his pocket. “Yes. But there’s no Amara or a Crossroads tavern on here,” he says, smoothing out the list on the table.

Darius leans forward, his amber eyes scanning the paper. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, I see the confusion. That’s because that’s a list of supernaturals who reside in the city. The tavern isn’t in the city.”

Ethan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? If this isn’t the city, where is it?”

“It’s nowhere,” Darius says simply.

“What?” Ethan scrunches up his face. “We have to be somewhere. Make that make sense.”

Amara and Darius share the kind of look that only couples who’ve been together for a long time can manage, a silent conversation passing between them that holds volumes.

The satyr’s pipes crescendo in the background, and for a moment, I swear I can see the air shimmer between them.

Amara turns back to Ethan. “The Crossroads exists in a place that’s both nowhere and everywhere all at once.

It’s a sanctuary between realms, accessible only to those who truly need it. ”

“Or those who know the right trap doors to stumble through,” Darius adds with a wink.

I feel my head spin at this information. “So, we’re not in the city anymore? But we only walked those tunnels for... what, an hour at most?”

“But were those really tunnels or were you just walking in circles? And did time really move?” Darius asks.

“What?” My head hurts, and I rub at my temples. The glow under my skin flickers with my confusion.

Amara chuckles lightly. “Time and space work differently here. It’s part of the magic that keeps us safe and hidden from those who would do us harm.”

“Are you saying that if you didn’t want us here, we’d still be wandering those tunnels?” Scarlett asks.

“Exactly,” Amara says.

“Gol-ly.” Scarlett sits back and lets out a steady puff of air. “Witches really are cool as shit.”