Page 30 of How to Charm a Coven (How to Flirt with a Witch #2)

Yet Another Madsen Residence

T hrough the van’s tinted windows, Sophia’s apartment building rises like a glittering spear against the night sky, its lobby lit by a crystal chandelier. The Cascade Tower—all glass and steel and wealth, because apparently even magical terrorists appreciate a good view.

The inside of my cheek stings where I’ve been chewing it. I should be racing to Lighthouse Park to warn the chimeras. But my heart is torn, fluttering desperately. Could I slip away without Natalie noticing?

We park in the loading zone, and the Shadows flood out of the van like a SWAT team, their black cloaks billowing as they move silently through the night. The streetlights catch their utility belts, glinting off small containers.

Natalie grabs my wrist to stop me from following, her touch sending a jolt up my arm. “People are going to get hurt in there. Stay in the van?”

Her tone is pleading, her eyes searching mine desperately. She knows me well—and under other circumstances, I would argue that I should help fight in any way I can .

But today is different, so I nod, my stomach twisting. “Go. Stay safe.”

Her brow pinches, like she’s suspicious of my lack of argument. But we have no time to stand here, so she just takes my hands and pulls me into a kiss.

“I love you,” she whispers into my lips.

After my lies and secrets, these words wrap around me like a hug. I melt a little, my eyes prickling. “I love you too.”

While she races after the Shadows, I get back into the van—and immediately open my phone to hail a ride-share. If I can warn Lucy that the Shadows are planning an ambush, I can stop a disaster from happening.

The street is quiet except for the distant hiss of a car. Few people are out this late, and the sidewalks look dark and cold.

Something rustles beside me in the van, and I jump, my heart shooting into my throat.

Nobody is in here. The seats are empty, other than…

My backpack is moving. Struggling.

I stare at it. A disgruntled “mrrrp” rises from its depths.

Oh no.

Slowly, I reach for the zipper. A furry butt greets me before Ethel turns around and springs out, latching onto my thigh with needle-sharp claws.

“Ow!” I cry, plucking her off my leg.

She glares at me like this is my fault, her blue eyes wide. Her fur is ruffled like she’s weathered a storm in there.

“Why did you climb into my bag?” I scold her. “This isn’t—”

A crack like a gunshot erupts outside. Ethel startles and scrambles out of my arms, her claws digging into my jacket. She ping-pongs around the van in a thunder of paws and tearing sounds, managing to turn on the hazard lights and an overhead light.

“Ow! Ethel, stop!”

A metallic hiss from outside rises above the chaos, and I spin to see glittering debris catch the moonlight as it falls from what must be the penthouse. The shards rain down on the pavement in a wave of crashes and tinkling, like a wind chime in a hurricane.

“Oh my God.”

Leaving Ethel clinging to the ceiling like a fuzzy chandelier, I whip open the rear doors and scramble out.

High above, shouts carry into the night. Purple light bursts through the shattered window, casting an eerie glow over the dark sky.

Fear floods my veins. Do I go up there?

The image of Natalie lying injured flashes across my mind’s eye—collapsed on the floor, bleeding out with glass in her side, everyone else too busy to help.

I can’t leave. Not when Natalie might need me.

“I’m going,” I say. “Ethel, stay here—”

She’s no longer latched to the ceiling. And I left the van door ajar.

“Dammit!”

A white blur darts toward the building, and as a fleeing couple pushes open the glass door, she slips between them and into the lobby.

“Jesus Christ…” I sprint after her, losing sight of her as a stream of people floods out the stairwell.

I push through everyone. Footsteps echo off the marble floors, and distant rumbling prickles my eardrums.

“Anyone see a cat?” I ask the flowing crowd, my voice high with panic.

“It just ran past,” an older man says as he hurries by. “Don’t go up there though—something’s happening. We called the police.”

“Thanks,” I say, having zero intention of listening to his advice.

When there’s a gap in the flow of people, I burst through the stairwell door to find Ethel sitting primly on the third step, grooming her paw.

“If you get us killed, I’m never forgiving you,” I growl, scooping her up. I stuff her into my jacket and zip it up so only her head pokes out. “Now stay, and don’t scratch me. ”

I hesitate, debating whether to take the stairs. I would probably die if I tried to climb all the way to the penthouse, so I race back through the lobby to the elevator.

When the doors open, more terrified people stream past, warning me not to go up there. I thank them and get in anyway. My hands are sweating as I push the button to the top floor.

The elevator glides upward, maddeningly smooth and unhurried while my insides twist with visions of Natalie bleeding out on some fancy carpet. Ethel’s purr rumbles against my chest like she’s enjoying this adventure too much.

Another crash sounds. The elevator shudders. The lights flicker, and for a terrifying moment, I think I’m going to be trapped in this metal box while Natalie and Sky fight for their lives beyond it.

But the elevator continues, and I clench my fists, ready for whatever awaits. God, I wish this gauntlet gave me powers beyond just a good punch.

The doors open with a cheerful ding, and I blink away a cloud of dust. My breath hitches. Ethel stops purring, her head swiveling.

The penthouse door has been blown off its hinges and lies in splinters across the hallway. Cool night air rushes past me, carrying the scent of smoke. My hair lifts from my shoulders like I’ve walked into a thundercloud.

I step over the mangled door, ears ringing. Marble countertops are shattered. A light fixture lies in fragments. Furniture has been ripped apart and flung about the room. The opposite wall of floor-to-ceiling windows is gone, leaving jagged glass around a gaping hole to the night beyond.

My stomach lurches at the sight of Sophia standing with her back to the open, her white-blonde hair whipping around her face. She’s wearing a blue silk robe, red cuts oozing all over her pale skin. But she’s holding strong, her teeth gritted and her eyes blazing purple .

The Shadows fire debris at her so fast that I can’t keep up. Fiona stands among them, her cloak like a splash of blood against the darkness.

Natalie. Where’s Natalie?

I scan frantically, my breaths shallow and panicked.

Sophia blocks every hit, blowing each piece to dust before it can touch her. Copper spheres clatter to the floor—the same ones Natalie used as bullets when the Madsens infiltrated C.S.A.M.M.

There. Natalie’s kneeling, fighting hard, her face streaked with blood.

Alive.

Relief floods through me.

Neil crouches beside her, hands raised as he fights, face tense with concentration. Sky leads the charge, launching copper bullets and anything she can summon.

Need to get to Natalie.

Ducking low to avoid drawing attention, I inch closer. My pulse races so fast that a shudder runs through me. Ethel squirms, and I zip my jacket tighter before she gets any ideas.

Sky reaches into her utility belt and hurls something new. With a tinkling crash, a cloud of purple smoke erupts at Sophia’s feet.

Sophia roars and steps backward, coughing. Her heel meets empty air. She teeters on the edge, thirty stories above the street.

“Keep her alive, Skylar,” Fiona barks. “Let’s go, everyone! Surround her!”

“Trying,” Hayley grits out, ducking to avoid a flying toaster.

The counter explodes.

Without thinking, I throw myself in front of Natalie and raise my gauntlet. A hunk of marble ricochets with a clang, leaving my hand tingling but unharmed.

“Katie!” she shouts, her eyes widening when she realizes who I am. Her gaze darts to Ethel for the briefest moment. “What—I told you to stay in the van!”

“Yeah, well, the plan changed when the window exploded.” I grab her arm and yank her down to the floor as more debris slams into my side. The pain barely registers. All that matters is the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers, and the strength of her racing pulse as it matches my own.

“You should’ve stayed down there,” she whispers fiercely, but her grip on me tightens, betraying how relieved she is that I’m with her.

A high sound rings out, and it takes me a moment to process it—it’s Sophia laughing. Wisps of violet lightning dance from her hands, feathery arcs reaching out. The way she moves her fingers is mesmerizing, like choreography she’s spent her whole life perfecting.

A shiver rolls down my spine as chunks of floor tile lift into the air, hovering like a swarm of deadly insects.

“Stay behind me.” Natalie forces me back, shielding me from danger as usual. She thrusts out her palms, and the air crackles as she deflects Sophia’s barrage, her muscles tensing with the effort.

I want to pull her back and be the one to protect her for once, but all I can do is press my hands to her strong shoulder blades and feel the way magic vibrates through her body, zapping my palm like a static shock.

The Shadows advance, trying to corner Sophia against the deadly drop.

But she’s like a wild animal, lashing out in all directions.

A chair leg impales the wall inches from Hayley’s head.

Glass shards spray toward Sky, who dives behind an overturned couch and swears, clutching her already injured leg.

“Give up, Sophia!” Fiona shouts through the tumult. “You’re outnumbered.”

“Doesn’t put me at much of a disadvantage, does it?” Sophia’s lips curve into a wicked grin. She opens her arms, and I gasp as every loose object in the suite rises into the air—broken furniture, kitchen appliances, shattered glass, stray copper bullets, all of it suspended in a deadly tornado .

Natalie tackles me to the floor as the whirlwind explodes outward. Ethel yowls in protest, pulling her head in and batting her paws inside my jacket as if searching for an exit.

I do my best to shield us with the gauntlet, but my skin stings and burns as God-knows-how-many cuts split open. Impacts and cries of pain rise all around us.

When the attack fades and I dare to raise my head, several Shadows are down, coughing and spluttering.

And beside Natalie, slumped against the wall, is Neil. It takes my brain a moment to register what I’m seeing—the chunk of marble protruding from his sternum.

He opens his mouth, and blood trickles out as his body slides down the wall. His muscular frame looks deflated and small as he crumples to the floor.

“Neil!” Natalie shrieks, lunging for him.

His black cloak darkens further as blood spreads out around the marble. He blinks once, and then his eyes go still and glassy, reflecting nothing but ceiling.

“No!” Natalie grasps his face, his collar, his arms, as if trying to figure out how to help.

But there’s nothing we can do. Blood pools beneath him, creeping toward Natalie’s knees. The smell fills my nostrils. I cover my mouth to hold back the sudden nausea.

One second he was alive and fighting, and the next, gone. The brutal simplicity of his death winds me, making me dizzy.

“C-careful,” I stammer, grabbing Natalie and pulling her closer. Unwanted calculations flash through my mind—the trajectory of the marble, the few inches that spared her and condemned Neil.

The thought of how close they were standing paralyzes me. My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe .

The memory of Freddie’s body flashes across my mind’s eye, and Will lying on the floor of C.S.A.M.M.’s lounge—every time I’ve seen a person become a corpse. Lifeless eyes gazing at the ceiling, faces frozen, bodies limp.

Natalie’s breathing quickens, her expression twisting. Past the tears in her eyes, past the numb shock, there’s something else—fury. My blood runs cold at the sight of it.

Then, distantly, a car engine revs. It’s a pitch I’ve heard enough times that it’s painfully familiar.

I gasp. “Natalie, it’s…”

Sophia looks down at the street below, and then back at us. A sneer curls her lip, triumph glinting in her purple eyes.

Hayley jumps to her feet and launches something from her belt. A cluster of jagged spikes beelines for Sophia, a hum prickling my ears like the sound of a drone.

Sophia tilts her head. With a playful wiggle of her fingers, she leaps backward—and lets herself fall.

“No!” Fiona roars, lurching toward the window.

I race after her, more footsteps thundering around me. I stop a stride away, my insides seeming to launch into my esophagus as I look down, where parked cars resemble toys.

Stopped beside the van in front of the building, illuminated by a pale floodlight, is Oaklyn’s silver FJ Cruiser.