Page 12 of How to Charm a Coven (How to Flirt with a Witch #2)

How to Catch a Chimera

“ S o you blew up a lake house, rescued your girlfriend’s dad, and developed a magically induced full-body rash that makes poison ivy look minor,” Hazel says from the kitchen table. “All in the span of an evening.”

“Yep.” I plunk down on the couch to slather coconut oil over my angry red skin, which feels too tight and on fire. “They had him locked in a dark basement.”

I had Natalie drop me off while she and Sky went to tend to their dad. My brain feels like it’s been through a blender, tumble-dried, then put back into a blender, but sleep isn’t an option when every time I close my eyes, I see those iron bars and his hollow face. Thank God Hazel’s still up.

I peel off my socks and inspect my blotchy feet, which look like they’ve been attacked by radioactive mosquitoes. What’s the proper treatment for magical inflammation anyway? Is there a WebMD for curse victims ?

Hazel goggles at me, her paint-by-numbers sunflower field forgotten. “These Madsen people sound horrible. And you’re still in trouble for killing one of them in self-defense?”

“Yup.” The injustice hits me all over again, and I slump back.

“What will they do when they find out you blew up their house and took Natalie’s dad?”

“Well, they already want to kill me, so does it matter?” I lift a shoulder as if this isn’t terrifying. “Anyway, with luck, they’ll think he exploded with the house.”

She studies me closely as I try to relieve my inflamed arms. I don’t know if it’s helping, but it’s all I could think of, and it’s soothing after the curse attacked me. At least I’ll smell like a tropical vacation while I process my trauma.

“Are you okay?” Hazel asks, searching my face.

“We succeeded,” I say, willing myself to feel some sense of victory. “We freed Natalie’s dad, which means soon we’ll have the guidance we need to start catching chimeras.”

It’s hard to get Natalie’s distraught face out of my head, and the pain in her voice. I can’t imagine how scared and angry she must have been, knowing how close she was to losing both parents to the Madsens.

Hazel smiles sadly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I open my mouth to say I’m fine. Of course. Everything’s working out.

But the words lodge in my throat. And something in her steady gaze makes me swallow them right back down.

The cell flashes across my mind again—iron bars, putrid air, the defeat in his eyes. My stomach churns, bile rising. I dig out another glob of coconut oil and attack my arms like I can scrub away the memory.

“No,” I admit, my voice strained. “I’m not okay.

My parents and sisters called to ask how I’m settling in, and I almost burst into tears at the thought that I might not see them for five years while I rot in a cell.

And I don’t know what I’m going to tell them because it’s not like I can tell the truth, and they’re all going to worry, and I don’t want to do that to them, and I’m going to—to really miss them—”

Fuck, I’m crying.

I swipe at my cheeks, wincing as my irritated skin protests at the contact. Hazel studies me, her expression shifting to a familiar determination. She sets down her paintbrush.

I watch her wearily as she gets up and comes closer.

She wraps her arms around me, not quite touching me because of my tender skin. “I am absolutely not letting you go to witch prison, and neither is Natalie. We’ve got two months to figure this out, okay?”

Ethel pads over and sniffs my ankle, either sensing my distress or debating whether to lick off the coconut oil.

Of course Hazel’s prepared to help me tackle this. That’s what best friends do, right? Help you move, bail you out of jail, and hunt down shapeshifting monsters?

Knowing I have her and Natalie in my corner helps, but to think we might fail anyway still makes my chest unbearably tight.

“Katie.” Hazel waits until I meet her eyes before continuing. “You might have come back with battle wounds—or um, a battle rash—but you kicked ass tonight. You saved Natalie’s dad, and you’re ready to catch some chimeras. You can do this, okay?”

I smile a little, relaxing into her hug.

She’s right. If I stop panicking about what’ll happen if I fail, there’s an opportunity to feel hopeful about what comes next: an actual shot at catching a chimera.

“Show me your chimera map,” I say, putting the lid on the coconut oil.

“That’s the spirit.”

Hazel grabs her laptop and returns to sit beside me on the couch .

The map has way more pins than the last time she showed me—at least thirty are scattered everywhere between downtown and the suburbs, the majority in clusters.

“I made a sliding timeline, and watch what happens.” She drags the slider from left to right, and the pins appear in succession, moving slowly outward, like a weather map showing cloud movement.

“I think a lot of these clusters are the same few chimeras shapeshifting as they migrate. Like, if you look at this pin that started in the West End in February, over time you can see it move east.”

I lean in, my heart beating faster. “Hazel, you’re a genius.”

“Just wait,” she says, animated. “Based on these movements, I can use predictive analytics to guess where each one will appear next.”

“Oh my God.” I reach over to play with the map, dragging it around and moving the timeline slider.

“So let’s say we look at the most recent sighting—this one at Cambie.

Going back in time…” I drag the slider backward, and more pins appear near it.

“If this is the same one hanging out in the area, you’re saying we can predict where it’ll be next? ”

“Theoretically.” She tilts the laptop back toward her and opens a different window. Her fingers fly over the keyboard. I stay silent as she works, not wanting to interrupt her thought process.

“Hm. Interesting,” she says at last.

“What?”

“This trail of pins moving south. I think we can predict where this chimera is headed.” She points, and I drag the timeline to watch the pins appear in succession.

“So…we should keep a lookout in White Rock?” I ask.

“Yep. Seems to be moving that way at a steady rate.”

My heart leaps. “I’ll tell Natalie.”

She gives me a reassuring smile and continues tweaking her code. “In the meantime, want to help me craft the perfect pickup line for a girl I matched with? ”

I sit up straight. “Yes! Who is she?”

As she tells me about how the dating app has been going, I’m more grateful for her than ever. She’s the anchor to normalcy I desperately need when I’m wedged between curses and chimeras. And she’s fighting right alongside me when she could easily back away with her hands raised in surrender.

My next step is as clear as a pin on her map. Tomorrow, I’m going to return to C.S.A.M.M. and learn about chimera catching from Natalie’s dad. Then, it’s time to start hunting.

I spend the morning rubbing tea tree oil, baking soda, calamine lotion, and anything else I can think of all over my hives. Thankfully, by the time Natalie picks me up, my skin has calmed enough that I won’t meet her dad looking like I’ve caught something contagious.

We enter C.S.A.M.M. through the steam clock, and the familiar brick halls feel darker, more threatening. Everyone is hushed, whispering about what happened to Troy Zacharias.

The place has been restored since the Madsens attacked in February, but something’s off, like paint over a deep scratch.

The fireplace, stone chimney, booths, and tables are repaired, but the ivy-covered walls and other plants aren’t as lush as before.

The poor willow tree is propped up with wooden supports—but it’s alive, surviving against impossible odds.

The bean bags, bookshelf, and board games that were once beneath it have been moved to give it space to heal.

Heads turn as we pass, familiar faces watching me but saying nothing. I ignore them. I’ve got enough to worry about without caring about being stared at .

The infirmary is as I remember it—sterile, white, the only part of the building not covered in plants and wood. My stomach churns as a sense memory hits me, a jolt of pain shooting through my ankle. Last time I was here, Natalie had to carry me in after Wyatt treated my leg like a tug-o-war rope.

Sky sits beside the nearest bed, her hand on her father’s arm like she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she lets go.

I hover at the threshold. This feels too private for an outsider to intrude upon.

But Natalie’s hand finds the small of my back, and she gently guides me to the bedside.

“…heard bits of conversation down there,” her dad is telling Sky, his voice labored and sandpapery. “Knew they were going to invade but had no way to warn you. Just glad something worse didn’t happen.”

He looks better than when we rescued him, but not by much.

His trimmed beard reveals how gaunt his face is, his cheekbones sharp enough to cast shadows.

He’s more covered in scars than I thought, jagged white lines stretching like webs over every inch of visible skin.

But there’s still life in his eyes after all those months, a spark of defiance that the Madsens couldn’t extinguish.

An IV drips into one arm while the other rests atop the blanket, curled into a loose fist.

“Hey, Dad,” Natalie says, pulling up chairs for us. “How’re you holding up?”

He lifts one skeletal hand and drops it with a hollow thwap . “Wondering if I’ll ever regain the use of these things.”

“You will,” Sky says fiercely. “Don’t say that.”

His mouth forms a grim line as he meets his younger daughter’s gaze.

As I sit, he turns to me, his dark brown eyes so much like Natalie’s. “Nat tells me you—have an ability,” he says between breaths.

I dip my chin. “We’re hoping it helps us track down all the loose bio magic. ”

“It just might.” His gaze is assessing, like he’s trying to see through me to whatever makes me different. It’s the same look Natalie gave me when she first realized I could sense curses.