Page 10 of How to Charm a Coven (How to Flirt with a Witch #2)

Chateau Madsen

T he cargo van hurtles away from the setting sun, Sky behind the wheel treating speed limits like light suggestions.

I’m wedged between Natalie and Hayley on what has to be the world’s most awkward road trip.

Neil and three other Shadows take up the rest of the seats.

It’s the same van we took to Fort Langley when the Madsens led us into a trap in the graveyard.

“We think they’re keeping Dad in their vacation house near Harrison Hot Springs,” Natalie says. “We’ve checked every location connected to them, and this one…” She glances at Sky. “The amount of magic protecting it is suspicious.”

“The place has Oaklyn and Sophia written all over it,” Sky says. “Roots, thorns, and enough curses to double as a haunted house.”

“How can I help?” I flex my fingers beneath the enchanted fig leaf gauntlet. God, I missed punching things with this. And I’ve got enough pent-up anger that I’m ready to hit someone with the strength of a thousand bulls.

“We need you to identify the danger zones,” Natalie says. “It’s too dangerous to even walk up to the house otherwise. ”

I straighten up, aware that everyone’s attention is on me. This is my chance to show them what I can do. “I’ll find us a safe path,” I vow, trying to sound confident.

In reality, the fate of this rescue mission lies in the hands of a girl who got stuck in a tree last summer while trying to save her sister’s kite—but they don’t need to know that.

I settle in against Natalie, drawing strength from her. She extricates her arm and pulls me closer, her body heat seeping into me. This earns a few glances and side-eyes, but come on, word about our relationship must have made it around the block by now.

In the close quarters of the van, with her arm around me and her scent enveloping me, I’m struck by how natural this feels—being with her, hurtling into danger together.

Her presence is like a beacon to my senses, as if my body recognizes her on some deeper level.

If we weren’t surrounded by other witches, I might finally tell her what I’ve been holding in.

The words feel so right they’re almost painful to contain.

Does the way I look at her and touch her convey what I haven’t been able to vocalize? She must know. And the question is whether she feels it too.

After two hours, we turn onto a dirt road, and magic hits me like walking face-first into a spider web. My breath catches. “We’re close.”

Natalie looks sharply at me and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“Let’s see what you got, curse-hunter,” Hayley says. There’s no mockery in her tone, and to my surprise, she offers a tiny hint of a smile.

A faint warm feeling spreads through my chest. Maybe not everyone is as angry with me as Fiona is.

At the end of a long driveway, Sky kills the engine.

Between twilight and the looming evergreens, the colors are dark and muted.

No lights shine from the waterfront cabin, but the blackness inside seems to pulse with energy.

Thorny vines scale the walls, and gnarled roots rise from the earth as if trying to drag the house underground .

Sky climbs out, and the rest of us follow, the slamming doors echoing through the woods. A cold breeze sweeps through the glade, and branches hiss against each other. Beyond the cabin, lake water laps the rocky shore.

I zip up my bomber jacket and scowl, my skin prickling. “ Haunted house is an understatement.”

Pushing back my braid and taking a deep breath, I step carefully toward the front door as if I’m approaching a bear den—and a creak tickles my eardrums. Every tree and bush shifts with me, like a cat swishing its tail as it gets ready to pounce.

Pine branches reach out like grasping fingers, and the lake slaps the shore more insistently.

My steps falter. “I thought witches had to actively control objects,” I whisper. “Is Sophia here?”

Everyone stops.

Sky takes a vial out of her utility belt and pops the cork, the noise filling the glade. She pours a burgundy powder into her palm, raises it to her lips, and blows. The powder lifts into the wind and drifts toward the house.

“Tracking dust,” Natalie explains, her voice at a murmur.

I nod. Nobody else speaks as the dust spreads across the front yard, where it glows silver for a moment before flickering and dying. Only a small patch remains suspended in the air, the last to flicker and die.

“One occupant,” Sky says.

A pause. Nobody seems to be breathing.

“Let’s hope it’s Dad,” she adds, scowling as she slides the vial back into her belt.

Natalie eyes the shifting trees, which are still moving far too much for the lack of wind.

“Skilled witches can do enchantments so objects respond on their own. Another reason her abilities are concerning. She’s had magic for a short time but is already more proficient than… uh, most witches, to be honest. ”

I adjust the gauntlet and make a fist, wondering how useful this thing will be if an entire forest attacks me. Wouldn’t be the first time I got into a fight with a tree, given all the hiking misadventures with my sisters growing up. “There must be a safe way in that the Madsens use, right?”

“Or it only lets them pass,” Sky says. “Like how our suites are sealed to everyone but the occupant.”

Natalie moves closer, her shoulder brushing mine. “We can handle the killer plants for long enough to get by. It’s the other stuff I’m worried about. You focus on finding the curses, okay?”

I nod, my heart pounding. I can feel their pull already, like hooks in my chest.

I look at each of the witches surrounding me, gathering courage. “Ready?”

They flank me, and we advance.

It’s like we’ve hit a trip wire. Pine branches snap toward us, their sharp needles about to draw blood.

“Go!” Sky roars, and the air comes alive with a charge. Loose strands of my hair float around my face as the witches create a shield of swirling debris—leaves, rocks, sticks, dirt.

We sprint forward, my heart slamming into my ribs.

A fern snaps at my legs like a piranha. I leap around it. A pinecone whips at my face like a bullet, and I raise the gauntlet, deflecting it with a twang!

I’m about to hop onto the wraparound porch when instinct pulls me to a stop. Gasping, I fling out my arms to block the others. “Wait!”

“What is it?” Hayley asks.

The sensation crawls up my limbs and across my back. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for something I can’t see. “There’s a curse, but it’s…” I scan the porch—the floorboards, the wooden bench, the white front door…and faded brown welcome mat.

My heart stumbles. “It’s the mat. ”

Natalie follows my gaze. “Positive?”

Something sharp stings the back of my neck, and I hiss, lifting my hand to it. Probably a pine tree with excellent aim.

“Nat! Hurry up, dumbass!” Sky grunts as she and the others continue raising shields to block the attack.

“Okay, okay!” Natalie uncorks the vial and draws out the contents. The shimmering amber substance morphs in the air before she sends it downward. It hits the mat with a wet slap , where it spreads like syrup.

She yanks me backward.

A hiss. A spark.

BOOM!

A crater opens in the porch, black smoke rising as the mat and the wood beneath it disintegrates to ash.

“I think that did—ow!” I flinch as something else strikes the back of my head.

“Go!” Natalie shouts.

We scramble onto the porch and stop at the crater.

“Open the door with magic,” I say. “Don’t touch anything.”

Neil raises his hands, his face tightening with concentration. “It won’t budge.”

My skin prickles so fiercely in the presence of magic it’s like I’ve rolled in stinging nettle. I grab Natalie’s hand and pull her onward. “This way. Something’s wrong here.”

We edge along the broken porch, the crater smoldering, while branches try to punch through our shield. The lake water stirs like a storm, waves reaching for our ankles.

At the side door, Natalie lifts her palm, and it blasts open.

Sky nudges me. “Nice work, Katie.”

I take one step, then freeze.

Multiple curses tug at me from different directions. I focus on the closest one—coming from near my feet. I crouch, concentrating on the pull inside me. Gumboots… Umbrella… There . The black doormat practically screams “grab me!”, which is exactly why I don’t.

“This one’s also cursed,” I say, pointing to the mat.

Natalie opens a second vial and slaps the amber substance onto it.

“Damn, Katie,” Neil says. “You’re good at this.”

The praise takes me aback, and I smile awkwardly as I cover my ears.

The mat explodes, and I lead the way inside, crossing the threshold of the Madsens’ vacation house.

We step into a kitchen that hasn’t been updated since probably the 1970s. The tug gets stronger, my pulse throbbing in my neck. I scan every appliance, fists up, searching for more explanations for the magic rampaging around me. My spine tingles like someone is watching us.

A gust of wind passes over the house, making it creak. I shiver. Branches thrash and squeal against the windows. Beyond them, a blanket of white fog creeps closer over the black lake. My next breath comes out in a puff, the temperature plummeting.

“What’s happening?” I ask, my voice wavering.

A crackling sound makes us all flinch. My gaze snaps to an ancient boombox in the corner of the living room.

“Oh no,” I whisper as the static morphs into music, dropping us into Céline Dion’s It’s All Coming Back to Me Now.

Natalie whips out a vial. “Who touched something?”

Everyone else raises their hands to prove their innocence. But pain ripples up my arms, and I hiss, shaking them out as they turn red and blotchy. Bumps rise on my skin like a hundred mosquito bites. Or hives.

Crap. Looks like I’m the lucky target.

“Uh…” I say as the hives begin to itch.

All gazes turn to me, and Natalie sucks in a breath. We both check to see if I brushed against anything, but I’m only standing on linoleum.